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PLANTATION  SKETCK 


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D491 


THE   LIBRARY  OF 
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7: 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


MAMMY 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


MARGARET  DEVEREUX 


PRIVATELY  PRINTED  AT 
MDCCCCVI 


p  a  ^ 

D  H1I 


COPYRIGHT  1906  BY  MARGARET  DEVEREUX 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE 

The  descriptions  of  Southern  life  in  this 
little  book,  as  well  as  the  accompanying 
stories,  were  written  by  Mrs.  Devereux 
during  the  past  fifteen  years,  in  large  part 
after  she  had  passed  her  sixty-fifth  year. 
They  are  essentially  reminiscent,  and  were 
prepared  originally  with  no  thought  of 
publication,  but  merely  to  be  read  to  her 
grandchildren,  so  that  there  might  be  pre- 
served in  their  minds  some  conception  of 
the  old-time  lives  of  their  grandparents. 
The  sketches  thus  came  to  be  read  by  me 
to  my  own  children,  who  are  of  the  third 
generation.  They  brought  to  my  mind  so 
simply,  yet  so  vividly  and  in  so  attractive  a 
manner,  a  picture  of  the  old  plantation  life, 
they  showed  such  remarkable  memory  of 
interesting  details,  that  they  seemed  to  me 

V 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE 

to  merit  publication.  The  charm  of  the 
descriptions  will  impress  all  readers,  and 
the  truthfulness  of  the  illustrations  of  negro 
character  and  habits  will  be  recognized  by 
all  who  are  familiar  with  the  South.  The 
sketches  are  simple,  homely  little  tales  pre- 
pared for  children,  and  they  must  be  read 
with  this  fact  in  mind;  but  they  have 
nevertheless  an  interest  and  a  lesson  for 
maturer  readers,  to  whom  they  are  now 
offered. 

Arthur  Winslow 

i8  Chestnut  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 
April  27, 1906 


CONTENTS 


Letter  to  7-ny  Grandehildren  ix 

Plantation  Life  i 

Goi7ig  to  the  Plantation  40 

My  Own  Early  Home  52 

Two  Bob  Whites  59 

Little  Dave  74 

The  Hog- Feeder  s  Day  85 

The  Jimior  Reserve  113 

Mam^ny  1 1 9 

War  Reminisce7iees  150 


►'f  i 

<       4  J 


TO  MY  GRANDCHILDREN 


As  the  "  New  South,"  with  all  its  changes  and 
improvements,  rises  above  the  horizon,  those 
whose  hearts  still  cling  to  the  "  Old  South  "  look 
sadly  backward  and  sigh  to  see  it  fade  away  into 
dimness,  to  be  soon  lost  to  sight  and  to  Hve  only 
in  the  memory  of  the  few.  Hoping  to  rescue 
from  oblivion  a  few  of  the  habits,  thoughts,  and 
feelings  of  the  people  who  made  our  South  what 
it  was,  I  have  drawn  from  memory  a  few  pen 
sketches  of  plantation  life,  based  upon  actual 
events,  in  which  are  recorded  some  of  the  good 
and  even  noble  traits  of  character  which  were 
brought  forth  under  the  yoke  of  slavery. 

For  you,  my  dear  grandchildren,  I  have  tried 
to  fix,  before  they  fade  entirely,  these  already 
faint  reflections  from  the  "light  of  other  days." 

Margaret  Devereux. 

Raleigh,  North  Carolina, 
December,  1905. 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


and  of  your  great-grandfather, 
because  I  want  you  to  know  something  of 
them,  because  their  mode  of  hfe  was  one 
of  which  scarcely  a  vestige  is  left  now,  and 
because,  fmaUy,  I  don't  want  you  to  be  led 
into  the  misconception  held  by  some  that 
Southern  planters  and  slaveholders  were 
cruel  despots,  and  that  the  life  of  the  negro 
slaves  on  the  plantation  was  one  of  misery 
and  sorrow. 

Before  I  enter  upon  my  brief  narrative  I 
\vant  you  to  realize  that  it  is  all  strictly  true, 
being  based  upon  my  knowledge  of  facts ; 
very  simple  and  homely  in  its  details,  but 
with  the  merit  of  entire  truthfulness. 

Your  great-grandfather,  Thomas  Pollock 
Devereux,  and  your  grandfather,  John 
Devereux,  were  planters  upon  an  unusually 


I 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


large  scale  in  North  Carolina;  together 
they  owned  eight  large  plantations  and  be- 
tween fifteen  and  sixteen  hundred  negroes. 
Their  lands,  situated  in  the  rich  river  bot- 
toms of  Halifax  and  Bertie  counties,  were 
very  fertile,,  the  sale  crops  being  corn,  cot- 
ton, and  droves  of  hogs,  which  were  sent  to 
Southampton  county,  Virginia,  for  sale. 

The  names  of  your  great-grandfather's 
plantations  were  Conacanarra,  Feltons, 
Looking  Glass,  Montrose,  Polenta,  and 
Barrows,  besides  a  large  body  of  land  in 
the  counties  of  Jones  and  Hyde.  His  resi- 
dence was  at  Conacanarra,  where  the  dwell- 
ing stood  upon  a  bluff  commanding  a  fine 
view  of  the  Roanoke  river,  and,  with  the 
pretty  house  of  the  head  overseer,  the  small 
church,  and  other  minor  buildings,  looked 
like  a  small  village  beneath  the  great  elms 
and  oaks. 

Your  grandfather's  principal  plantation, 
and  our  winter  home,  was  Runiroi,  in 
Bertie  county.  The  others  were  "  The 
Lower  Plantation  "  and  Over  the  Swamp." 
At  Runiroi  we  lived  and  called  ourselves 
at  home,  and  of  it  I  have  preserved  the  clear- 

2 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


est  recollection  and  the  fondest  memo- 
ries. 

From  Kehukee  bluff,  which  we  usually 
visited  while  waiting  for  the  ferryman  on 
our  return  journey  after  the  summer's  ab- 
sence, the  plantation  could  be  seen  stretch- 
ing away  into  the  distance,  hemmed  in  by 
the  flat-topped  cypresses.  From  there  we 
had  a  view  of  our  distant  dwelling,  gleaming 
white  in  the  sunlight  and  standing  in  a 
green  oasis  of  trees  and  grass,  all  looking 
wonderfully  small  amid  the  expanse  of  flat 
fields  around  it.  Apart  as  I  now  am  from 
the  restless,  never-ending  push  of  life,  when 
neither  men  nor  women  have  time  for  lei- 
sure, when  even  pleasure  and  amusement 
are  reduced  to  a  business  calculation  as  to 
how  much  may  be  squeezed  into  a  given 
time,  I  think  it  might  perhaps  calm  down 
some  of  the  nervous  restlessness  that  I  per- 
ceive in  my  dear  children  and  grandchil- 
dren if  they  could,  for  once,  stand  there  in 
the  soft  November  sunshine.  The  splendor 
of  the  light  is  veiled  in  a  golden  haze,  the 
brown  fields  bask  in  the  soft  radiance  and 
seem  to  quiver  in  the  heat,  while  the  cease- 
3 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

less  murmur  of  the  great  river  is  like  a 
cradle  song  to  a  sleepy  child ;  the  rattle  of 
the  old  ferryman's  chain  and  the  drowsy 
squeak  of  his  long  sweeps  seem  even  to 
augment  the  stillness.  The  trees  along  the 
banks  appear  to  lack  the  energy  to  hang 
out  the  brilliant  reds  and  purples  of  autumn, 
but  tint  their  leaves  with  the  soft  shades  of 
palest  yellow,  and  these  keep  dropping  and 
floating  away,  while  the  long  gray  moss 
waves  dreamily  in  the  stillness. 

The  house  at  Runiroi  was  a  comfortable, 
old,  rambling  structure,  in  a  green  yard  and 
flower  garden,  not  ugly,  but  quite  innocent 
of  any  pretensions  at  comeliness.  Neither 
was  there,  to  many,  a  bit  of  picturesque 
beauty  in  the  flat  surroundings;  and  yet 
this  very  flatness  did  lend  a  charm  peculiar 
to  itself.  My  eyes  ever  found  a  delight  in 
its  purple  distances  and  in  the  great,  broad- 
armed  trees  marking  the  graceful  curves  of 
the  river.  The  approach  from  the  public 
road,  which  followed  the  bank  of  the  river, 
was  through  the  "  willow  lane,"  between 
deep-cut  ditches,  which  kept  the  roadway 
well  drained  unless  the  river  overspread 
4 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


its  banks,  when  the  lane  was  often  impass- 
able for  days.  In  the  springtime,  when  the 
tender  green  boughs  of  the  willows  were 
swayed  by  the  breeze,  it  was  a  lovely  spot, 
and  a  favorite  resort  of  the  children. 

I  was  so  young  a  bride,  only  seventeen, 
when  I  was  taken  to  our  winter  home,  and 
so  inexperienced,  that  I  felt  no  dread  what- 
ever of  my  new  duties  as  mistress.  The 
household  comforts  of  my  childhood's  home 
had  seemed  to  come  so  spontaneously  that 
I  never  thought  oi  processes,  and  naturally 
felt  rather  nonplussed  when  brought  into 
contact  with  realities.  The  place  had  for 
years  been  merely  a  sort  of  camping-out 
place  for  your  great-grandfather,  who  liked 
to  spend  a  part  of  the  winter  there ;  so  the 
house  was  given  over  to  servants,  who  made 
him  comfortable,  but  who  took  little  heed  of 
anything  else. 

I  recollect  my  antipathy  to  a  certain  old 
press  which  stood  in  the  back  hall.  The 
upper  part  was  filled  with  books.  In  the 
under  cupboard,  Minerva  kept  pies,  ginger- 
bread, plates  of  butter,  etc.  The  outside 
looked  very  dim  and  dusty.    I  could  not 

5 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

bear  to  look  at  it,  but  knew  not  how  to 
remedy  its  defects.  I  know  now  that  it  was 
a  handsome  old  piece,  which  a  furniture- 
lover  would  delight  in.  However,  my  youth- 
ful appetite  did  not  scorn  Minerva's  ginger- 
bread, and,  as  I  had  many  lonely  hours  to 
get  through  with  as  best  I  could,  I  would 
mount  the  highest  chair  that  I  could  find, 
and  ransack  the  old  musty  volumes  in 
search  of  amusement.  The  collection  con- 
sisted chiefly  of  antiquated  medical  works, 
some  tracts,  etc.,  but  once,  to  my  delight,  I 
unearthed  two  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  novels, 
which  were  indeed  a  treasure  trove  ;  one  of 
them  was  "  Gaston  de  Blondeville,"  which  I 
thought  beautiful.  I  have  regretted  that  I 
did  not  take  care  of  it,  for  I  have  never  seen 
another  copy. 

Minerva  was  a  woman  of  pretty  good 
sense,  but  of  slatternly  habits.  She  had 
been  so  long  without  a  lady  to  guide  her 
that  her  original  training  was  either  forgot- 
ten or  entirely  disregarded.  Once,  when 
starting  to  Conacanarra  for  Christmas,  I 
charged  her  to  take  advantage  of  the  fine 
weather  to  give  the  passage  floors  a  thorough 

6 


PLANTATION  LIFE 

scrubbing;  they  were  bare  and  showed  every 
footprint  of  black  mud  from  the  outside. 
When  it  came  time  to  return,  in  spite  of  our 
pleasant  Christmas  week,  w^e  were  glad  to 
think  of  our  own  home  and  were  rather 
dismayed  when  the  morning  fixed  for  our 
departure  broke  dark  and  very  cold,  with 
little  spits  of  snow  beginning  to  fall.  I  was 
much  afraid  that  we  should  be  compelled 
to  yield  to  the  hospitable  objections  to  our 
going,  but  at  last  we  succeeded  in  getting 
off.  We  crossed  at  Pollock's  (your  great- 
grandfather's ferry),  so  that  should  the  storm 
increase  we  need  not  leave  our  comfortable 
carriao-e  until  we  should  be  at  home.  It 
was  a  lonely  drive ;  the  snow  fell  steadily 
but  so  gently  that  I  enjoyed  seeing  the 
earth  and  the  trees,  the  fences  and  the  few 
lonely  houses  that  we  passed  all  draped  in 
white;  though  we  were  warmly  wrapped, 
the  anticipation  of  the  crackling  fires  in  our 
great  old  fireplaces  was  delightful.  When 
we  got  home,  the  first  sound  that  greeted 
our  ears,  as  we  stepped  upon  the  piazza, 
was  a  mournful,  long-drawn  hymn.  Shiver- 
ing and  damp  from  our  walk  up  the  yard, 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

we  opened  the  door,  to  see  Minerva,  with 
kilted  skirts,  standing  in  an  expanse  of 
frozen  slush  and  singing  at  the  top  of  her 
voice,  while  she  sluiced  fresh  deluges  of 
water  from  her  shuck  brush.  I  was  too 
disgusted  for  words,  but  resolved  that  this 
should  not  occur  again.  As  soon  as  I  could 
communicate  with  the  outside  world  I  had 
the  hall  floors  covered  with  oilcloth  (then 
the  fashionable  covering).  Also,  Minerva 
was  displaced,  and  Phyllis  reigned  in  her 
stead,  but  Minerva,  nevertheless,  always  in- 
dulged in  the  belief  that  she  was  indis- 
pensable to  our  happiness  and  comfort. 

In  honor  of  my  advent  as  mistress,  the 
floors  had  been  freshly  carpeted  with  very 
pretty  bright  carpets,  which  were  in  danger 
of  being  utterly  ruined  by  the  muddy  shoes 
of  the  raw  plantation  servants,  recently 
brought  in  to  be  trained  for  the  house. 
Although  the  soil  generally  was  a  soft, 
sandy  loam,  I  observed  in  my  horseback 
rides  numbers  of  round  stones  scattered 
about  in  the  fields.  They  were  curious 
stones,  and  looked  perfectly  accidental  and 
quite  out  of  place.  Their  presence  excited 

8 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


my  interest,  and  aroused  my  curiosity  as 
to  their  origin,  which  has  never  been  grati- 
fied. They  seemed  so  out  of  place  in  those 
flat  fields!  However,  I  determined  to  utilize 
them  and  had  a  number  collected  and 
brought  into  the  yard,  and  with  them  I  had 
a  pretty  paved  walk  made  from  the  house 
to  the  kitchen. 

Our  house  stood  upon  what  was  known 
as  the  "  Second  Land,"  which  meant  a 
slight  rise  above  the  wide,  low  grounds, 
which  were  formerly,  I  believe,  the  bed  of 
the  sluggish  stream  now  known  as  the 
Roanoke.  All  along  the  edge  of  these  Sec- 
ond Lands,  just  where  they  joined  the  low 
grounds,  there  was  a  bed  of  beautiful  small 
gravel.  I  was  delighted  when  I  discovered 
this  and  at  once  interested  myself  in  having 
a  gravel  walk  made  up  to  the  front  of  the 
house,  and  this  was,  when  completed,  all 
that  I  had  hoped,  and  served  as  a  perfect 
protection  against  the  offending  mud. 

There  was  one  evil,  though,  which  I 
could  not  guard  against,  and  this  was  the 
clumsy  though  well-meaning  stupidity  of  a 
plantation  negro.  One  afternoon  the  house 

9 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

became  offensive  with  the  odor  of  burning 
wool.  I  followed  up  the  scent  and,  after 
opening  several  doors,  I  finally  traced  it  to 
the  dining-room.  It  was  filled  with  smoke, 
and  there,  in  front  of  an  enormous  fire, 
squatted  Abby.  In  a  fit  of  most  unaccount- 
able industry  she  had  undertaken  to  clean 
the  brass  andirons,  and  had  drawn  them  red 
hot  from  the  fire  and  placed  them  upon  the 
carpet.  Of  course,  four  great  holes  were  the 
result  and,  as  the  carpets  had  been  made  in 
New  York,  there  were  no  pieces  with  which 
the  holes  could  be  mended.  As  I  had  al- 
ready decided  her  to  be  too  stupid  to  be 
worth  the  trouble  of  training,  I  felt  no  de- 
sire to  find  fault  with  her,  so  I  merely  told 
her  to  put  them  back,  or  rather  stood  by  to 
see  it  done.  I  did  not  keep  her  in  the  house 
after  that,  but  do  not  suppose  that  she  ever 
at  all  realized  the  mischief  that  she  had 
done. 

One  of  my  amusements  was  to  watch  the 
birds ;  they  were  so  numerous,  and  appeared 
to  be  so  tame.  I  set  traps  for  them.  This 
was  childish,  but  I  was  very  young  and 
often  rather  at  a  loss  to  find  something  to 

10 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


do;  so  I  used  to  take  with  me  my  small 
house  boy,  "  Minor,"  whom  I  was  training 
to  be  a  grand  butler;  he  would  carry  the 
trap  and,  after  it  had  been  set  and  baited,  I 
would  make  him  guide  me  to  the  trees  where 
the  sweetest  persimmons  grew;  there  I 
would  while  away  the  morning  and  on  the 
next  we  would  find  one  or  more  birds  flut- 
tering in  the  trap,  which,  to  Minor's  silent 
disgust,  I  would  set  free. 

The  squirrels,  too,  were  a  pleasure  to  me 
in  my  horseback  rides  toward  Vine  Ridge, 
especially.  Your  grandfather  and  I  would 
pause  to  watch  them  playing  hide  and  seek 
just  like  children,  scampering  round  and 
round,  their  pretty  gray  tails  waving,  until 
some  noise  would  send  them  out  of  sight, 
and  the  silent  forest  would  seem  as  if  no 
living  thing  were  near.  It  was  upon  one  of 
these  rides  that  your  grandfather  told  me 
how,  when  he  was  about  twelve  years  old, 
and  spending  his  Christmas  holidays  at 
Runiroi  with  his  grandfather,  he  once  said 
that  he  could  shoot  one  hundred  squirrels 
between  sunrise  and  sunset.  His  uncle, 
George  Pollock  Devereux,  happened  to 
1 1 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

hear  him  and  rebuked  him  sharply  for  so 
idle  a  boast,  and  when  your  dear  grand- 
father manfully  stood  his  ground,  saying 
that  it  was  not  an  idle  boast,  his  uncle  called 
him  a  vain  braggart,  which  so  offended 
your  grandfather  that  he  told  his  uncle  that 
he  would  prove  the  truth  of  his  assertion. 
And  so,  upon  the  following  morning,  he  rose 
early  and  was  at  Vine  Ridge  gun  in  hand, 
ready  to  make  his  first  shot,  as  soon  as  the 
sun  should  appear.  The  squirrels  were  very 
numerous  at  first,  and  he  made  great  havoc 
among  them.  Many  a  mile  he  tramped  that 
day,  scanning  with  eager  eyes  the  trees 
above  him,  in  search  of  the  little  gray  noses, 
hidden  behind  the  branches,  and  thus  it 
happened  that  he  got  many  a  fall  and  tum- 
ble among  the  cypress  knees;  but  what 
did  that  matter  to  his  young  limbs?  he  had 
only  to  pick  himself  up  again  and  tramp  on. 
As  the  day  advanced,  fewer  little  bright 
eyes  peeped  from  the  tree-tops  and  his 
number  was  not  made  up ;  he  was  getting 
tired  too,  and  very  hungry,  for  he  had  eaten 
nothing  since  his  early  breakfast.  He  stum- 
bled wearily  on,  however,  determined  not 

12 


PLANTATION  LIFE 

to  fail,  for  he  dreaded  his  uncle's  triumphant 
sarcasm  should  he  do  so.  A  few  more  shots 
brought  his  number  to  ninety-nine,  but 
where  was  the  one-hundredth  to  be  found  ? 
The  sun  was  sinking  to  the  horizon;  he  had 
come  out  from  the  swamp  and  was  tramp- 
ing homeward;  the  gun,  so  light  in  the 
morning,  now  weighed  like  lead  upon  his 
shoulder.  As  he  looked  into  every  tree  for 
that  hundredth  squirrel  which  could  not  be 
found,  the  sun's  disk  was  resting  upon  the 
horizon  when  he  turned  into  the  willow 
lane  leading  to  the  house.  Just  at  the  en- 
trance there  stood  a  great  chestnut  oak. 
This  was  his  last  chance.  He  paused  to 
take  one  hopeless  look,  when,  to  his  un- 
speakable joy,  he  beheld  a  fox  squirrel  seated 
up  among  the  branches.  Now  he  knew  that 
the  fox  squirrel  was  the  slyest,  as  well  as  the 
shyest  of  all  his  kind;  no  creature  so  expert 
as  he  in  slipping  out  of  range  ;  there  would 
be  no  chance  for  a  second  shot,  for  now  only 
a  rim  of  the  sun  was  left.  With  a  wildly  beat- 
ing heart  he  raised  his  gun,  took  time  to  aim 
well,  —  fired,  —  and  down  came  his  hun- 
dredth squirrel.  His  wager  was  won;  fatigue 
13 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


and  hunger  all  gone,  he  hastened  gaylyhome 
and  with  pride  emptied  his  bag  before  his 
uncle  and  his  delighted  old  grandfather,  who 
loved  him  above  everything,  and  who  finally 
made  him  his  heir,  so  that  your  grandfather 
was  quite  independent  of  his  own  father. 

When  I  first  became  acquainted  with  the 
plantation,  the  sale  crop  was  taken  down  to 
Plymouth  in  a  great  old  scow,  but  this  was 
afterward  superseded  by  the  introduction  of 
freight  steamers,  which  took  the  produce 
direct  to  Norfolk.  These  steamers  proved 
to  be  a  great  comfort  and  convenience  to 
us.  By  them  we  might  receive  anything 
that  we  desired  from  Norfolk,  of  which 
the  things  most  enjoyed  were  packages  of 
books,  —  Vickry  and  Griffiths,  booksellers, 
having  standing  orders  to  send  at  their  dis- 
cretion what  they  thought  desirable,  besides 
the  special  orders  for  what  we  wished  to 
see. 

The  advent  of  a  steamer  at  the  landing 
would  cause  much  pleasurable  excitement. 
If  anything  of  special  interest  was  expected, 
the  first  puff  of  steam  from  down  the  river 
would  be  eagerly  examined  through  the  spy- 
14 


PLANTATION  LIFE 

glass.  Then  would  follow  several  days  of 
busy  life  down  at  the  different  barns,  from 
which  the  corn  was  to  be  shipped.  Before 
the  introduction  of  the  corn-sheller,  the  corn 
was  beaten  from  the  cob  by  men  wielding 
great  sticks,  or  flails ;  others  raked  the  grain 
into  an  immense  pile;  from  this  pile  it  was 
measured  by  select  hands  and  put  into  bags, 
which  were  carried  to  the  steamer  lying 
at  the  landing.  The  men  who  measured 
and  kept  the  tally  maintained  a  constant 
song  or  chant,  and  designated  the  tally,  or 
fifth  bushel,  by  a  sort  of  yell.  The  overseer 
stood  by  with  pencil  and  book  and  scored 
down  each  tally  by  a  peculiar  mark.  The 
constant  stream  of  men  running  back  and 
forth,  with  bags  empty  or  full,  made  a  very 
busy  scene. 

After  the  corn  had  been  shipped,  the 
boat  had  steamed  down  the  river,  and  the 
place,  lately  so  full  of  busy  life,  had  returned 
to  its  accustomed  quiet  seclusion,  the  red- 
birds  came  to  peck  up  the  corn  left  upon 
the  ground.  I  remember  how  once,  upon  a 
cold,  gray  afternoon,  I  put  on  my  wraps  and 
ran  down  to  the  Sycamore  Barn,  on  purpose 
15 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


to  watch  the  shy,  beautiful  things.  Snow- 
flakes  were  beginning  to  fall  and  whisper 
about  the  great  bamboo  vines ;  twisted 
around  the  trees  upon  the  river  banks,  the 
long  gray  moss  hung  motionless  and  a 
thick  grayness  seemed  to  shut  out  the  whole 
world ;  all  about  me  was  gray,  —  earth,  sky, 
trees,  barn,  everything,  except  the  redbirds 
and  the  red  berries  of  a  great  holly  tree 
under  whose  shelter  I  stood,  listening  to 
the  whispering  snowflakes. 

The  Sycamore  Barn  derived  its  name  from 
a  great  sycamore  tree  near  which  it  stood. 
This  tree  was  by  far  the  largest  that  I  ever 
saw ;  a  wagon  with  a  four-horse  team  might 
be  on  one  side,  and  quite  concealed  from 
any  one  standing  upon  the  other.  When 
I  knew  it,  it  was  a  ruin,  the  great  trunk 
a  mere  shell,  though  the  two  giant  forks, 
—  themselves  immense  in  girth  —  still  had 
life  in  them.  In  one  side  of  the  trunk  was 
an  opening,  about  as  large  as  an  ordinary 
door ;  through  this  we  used  to  enter,  and  I 
have  danced  a  quadrille  of  eight  within 
with  perfect  ease. 

This  tree  gave  its  name  to  the  field  in 
i6 


PLANTATION  LIFE 

which  it  grew,  which  formed  part  of  the 
tract  known  as  the  Silver  Wedge.  It  was 
about  the  Silver  Wedge  that  an  acrimo- 
nious lawsuit  was  carried  on  during  the 
lives  of  your  great-great-grandparents,  John 
and  Frances  Devereux.  She  was  a  Pollock, 
and  the  dispute  arose  through  a  Mr.  Wil- 
liams, the  son  or  grandson  of  a  certain 
Widow  Pollock,  who  had,  after  the  death  of 
her  first  husband,  Major  Pollock,  married  a 
Mr.  Williams.  She  may  possibly  have  dow- 
ered in  this  Silver  Wedge  tract.  At  any  rate, 
her  Williams  descendants  set  up  a  claim  to  it, 
although  it  was  in  possession  of  the  real  Pol- 
lock descendant,  Frances  Devereux.  It  was 
a  large  body  of  very  rich  land,  and  inter- 
sected the  plantation  in  the  form  of  a  wedge, 
beginning  near  the  Sycamore  Barn,  and  run- 
ning up  far  into  the  Second  Lands,  widen- 
ing and  embracing  the  dwelling-house  and 
plantation  buildings.  I  have  heard  your 
great-great-grandfather  laugh  and  tell  how 
Williams  once  came  to  the  house,  and,  with 
a  sweeping  bow  and  great  assumption 
of  courtesy,  made  your  great-great-grand- 
mother welcome  to  remain  in  /ns  house. 
17 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

After  the  suit  had  been  settled,  Williams 
had  occasion  to  come  again  to  the  house, 
feeling,  no  doubt,  rather  crestfallen.  Mrs. 
Devereux  met  him  at  the  door  and,  making 
him  a  sweeping  curtsy,  quoted  his  exact 
words,  making  him  welcome  to  her  house. 

One  of  my  pleasant  memories  is  con- 
nected with  our  fishing  porch.  This  was  a 
porch,  or  balcony,  built  upon  piles  driven 
into  the  river  upon  one  side,  and  the  other 
resting  upon  the  banks.  It  was  raised  some 
eight  or  ten  feet  above  the  water  and  pro- 
tected by  a  strong  railing  or  balustrade  and 
shaded  by  the  overhanging  branches  of  a 
large  and  beautiful  hackberry  tree.  It  made 
an  ideal  lounging-place,  upon  a  soft  spring 
afternoon,  when  all  the  river  banks  were  a 
mass  of  tender  green,  and  the  soft  cooing  of 
doves  filled  the  air.  We  usually  took  Minor 
with  us  to  bait  our  hooks  and  assist  gener- 
ally, and  often  went  home  by  starlight  with 
a  glorious  string  of  fish. 

The  drawback  to  the  plantations  upon 
the  lower  Roanoke  lay  in  their  liability  to 
being  flooded  by  the  freshets  to  which  the 
Roanoke  was  exposed.  These  were  espe- 
i8 


PLANTATION  LIFE 

cially  to  be  dreaded  in  early  spring,  when 
the  snow  in  the  mountains  was  meltino;.  I 
have  known  freshets  in  ]\Iarch  to  inundate 
the  country  for  miles.  At  one  time  there 
was  not  a  foot  of  dry  land  upon  one  of  the 
Runiroi  plantations.  It  was  upon  a  mild 
night  in  that  month  that  I  sat  upon  the  porch 
nearly  all  through  the  night,  feeling  too 
anxious  to  sleep,  for  your  grandfather,  the 
overseer,  and  every  man  on  the  plantation 
were  at  the  river,  working  upon  the  em- 
bankments. The  back  waters  from  the 
swamp  had  already  spread  over  everything. 
This  gentle  and  slow  submersion  did  no 
great  damage,  when  there  was  no  growing 
crop  to  be  injured  ;  the  thing  to  be  guarded 
against  was  the  breaking  of  the  river  dam 
and  the  consequent  rushing  in  of  such  a 
flood  as  would  wash  the  land  into  enormous 
holes,  or  "  breakovers,"  of  several  acres  in 
extent  in  some  places,  or  make  great  sand 
ledges  in  others,  to  say  nothing  of  the  de- 
struction of  fences,  the  drowning  of  stock, 
etc.  On  the  night  that  I  speak  of,  the  moon 
w^as  at  its  full  and  glittered  upon  the  water, 
rippling  all  around  where  dry  land  should 
19 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

have  been.  I  sat  listening  anxiously  and 
occasionally  shuddering  at  a  sharp  cracking 
noise,  like  a  pistol  shot,  and,  following  upon 
it,  the  rushing  of  water  into  some  plantation 
up  the  river.  Once  in  the  night  I  heard  a 
noise  and,  upon  my  calling  to  know  who  it 
was,  a  man  replied  that  they  had  come  up  in 
a  canoe  to  get  some  water.  I  could  not  help 
laughing;  it  struck  me  that  water  was  rather 
too  plentiful  just  then.  They  worked  upon 
the  dam  until  there  was  no  more  material 
to  work  with,  water  being  level  with  the  top 
on  both  sides  and  only  a  foot  of  standing- 
room  at  the  top,  so,  having  done  all  that 
they  could,  all  hands  took  to  canoes  and 
went  to  their  homes.  That  "  March  freshet " 
did  incalculable  damage  to  the  whole  region, 
but  still  fine  crops  were  made  that  season. 
Your  grandfather  was  indefatigable  while 
anything  could  be  done,  but,  having  done 
all  that  human  energy  could,  he  would  re- 
sign himself  cheerfully  to  the  inevitable,  and 
his  family  never  were  saddened  by  depres- 
sion on  his  part.  This  wonderful  elasticity 
was  most  noticeable  at  the  fearful  period  of 
the  surrender  and,  indeed,  through  all  the 

20 


PLANTATION  LIFE 

succeeding  years,  when  this  power  of  his, 
despite  all  of  our  losses  and  anxieties,  made 
our  life  one  of  great  happiness. 

When,  during  the  winter  months,  a  mod- 
erate freshet  meant  nothins;  more  serious 
than  the  flooding  of  the  low  grounds,  it  was 
considered  rather  a  benefit,  owing  to  the 
rich  deposit  left  upon  the  land,  besides  the 
advantages  gained  in  floating  out  lumber 
from  the  swamps.  This  March  freshet 
caused  great  pecuniary  loss ;  new  dams  had 
to  be  constructed  at  a  heavy  expense,  and 
many  miles  of  repairing  had  to  be  done  to 
those  left  standing.  The  few  days  before 
the  water  had  reached  its  heio;ht  were  most 
trying  to  the  nerves  (that  is,  my  nerves).  I 
believe  my  fears  culminated  upon  the  night 
that  I  saw  the  water  rippling  over  our  own 
doorstep  and  realized  that  there  was  not  a 
foot  of  dry  land  visible  for  miles;  by  morn- 
ing, though,  the  river  was  "  at  a  stand,"  and 
by  evening  little  spots  of  green  were  show- 
ing themselves  in  the  yard  and  garden. 

The  word  garden  recalls  to  my  memory 
our  pretty  garden,  a  most  beautiful  contin- 
uation of  the  smooth  green  yard,  its  many 

21 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

alleys  bordered  with  flowers  and  flowering 
shrubs.  It  was,  I  own,  laid  out  in  a  stiff, 
old-fashioned  manner,  very  different  from 
the  present  and  far  more  picturesque  style ; 
still,  it  was  charming,  —  the  profusion  of 
flowers,  fed  by  that  wonderful  river  loam, 
exceeded  anything  that  I  have  ever  seen 
elsewhere.  In  the  springtime,  what  with 
the  flowers,  the  beautiful  butterflies,  and  the 
humming-birds,  the  sunny  air  would  actu- 
ally seem  to  quiver  with  color  and  life. 

Every  plantation  had  a  set  of  buildings 
which  included  generally  the  overseer's 
house,  ginhouse,  screw,  barn,  stable,  pork- 
house,  smokehouse,  storehouse,  carpenter's 
shop,  blacksmith  shop,  and  loomhouse, 
where  the  material  for  clothing  for  each 
plantation  was  woven,  —  white  cloth  for 
the  underclothes,  and  very  pretty  striped  or 
checked  for  outer  garments.  At  Runiroi, 
the  weaver,  Scip,  was  a  first-class  workman, 
and  very  proud  of  his  work.  I  often  had 
sets  of  very  pretty  towels  woven  in  a  damask 
pattern  of  mixed  flax  and  cotton.  The  win- 
ter clothing  was  of  wool,  taken  from  our 
own  sheep. 

22 


PLANTATION  LIFE 

The  carpenters  at  Runiroi  were  Jim,  the 
head  carpenter,  Austin,  and  Bill,  who  were 
all  good  workmen.  Frank,  "  Boat  Frank," 
as  he  was  called,  from  having  formerly 
served  as  captain  of  the  old  flat-bottomed 
scow  which  carried  the  sale  crop  to  Plym- 
outh, was  also  in  the  shop  and  did  beauti- 
ful work.  I  was  fond  of  visiting  Jim's  shop 
and  ordering  all  sorts  of  wooden  ware,  pails, 
piggins,  trays,  etc. ;  these  last,  dug  out  of 
bowl-gum,  were  so  white  that  they  looked 
like  ivory.  Boat  Frank  was  very  proud  of 
the  smoothness  and  polish  of  his  trays.  Our 
children,  with  their  mammy,  were  fond  of 
visiting  "  Uncle  Jim's  "  shop  and  playing 
with  such  tools  as  he  considered  safe  for 
them  to  handle,  while  Mammy,  seated  upon 
a  box  by  the  small  fire,  would  indulge  in 
long  talks  about  religion  or  plantation  gos- 
sip. That  shop  was  indeed  a  typical  spot ; 
its  sides  were  lined  to  the  eaves  with  choice 
lumber,  arranged  systematically  so  that  the 
green  was  out  of  reach,  while  that  which 
was  seasoned  was  close  at  hand.  Uncle 
Jim  would  have  felt  disgraced  had  a  piece 
of  work  made  of  unseasoned  wood  left  his 
23 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


shop.  The  smoke  from  the  small  fire  which 
burned  in  the  middle  of  the  big  shop,  upon 
the  dirt  floor,  escaped  in  faint  blue  wreaths 
through  the  roof,  leaving  behind  it  a  sweet, 
pungent  odor.  The  sun  streamed  in  at  the 
wide-open  door,  while  Jim  and  Frank  tin- 
kered away  leisurely  upon  plough  handles 
and  other  implements  or  household  articles. 

Uncle  Jim  was  a  preacher  as  well  as  a 
carpenter.  He  was  quite  superior  to  most 
of  his  race,  both  in  sense  and  principle 
and  was  highly  thought  of  by  both  white  and 
black.  Upon  two  Sundays  in  each  month 
he  preached  in  the  church  and  his  ser- 
mons were  quite  remarkable,  teaching  in 
his  homely  way  the  necessity  of  honesty 
and  obedience.  His  companion  in  the  shop, 
Boat  Frank,  was  of  a  more  worldly  nature, 
and  wore  great  golden  hoops  in  his  ears 
and  a  red  woolen  cap  upon  his  head,  and 
resembled  an  elderly  and  crafty  ape,  as  he 
sat  chipping  away  at  his  work. 

Next  came  the  blacksmith  shop,  where 
Bob  wielded  the  great  hammer  and  grinned 
with  childish  delight  at  seeing  the  children's 
enjoyment  when  the  sparks  flew. 

24 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


After  the  blacksmith's  shop  came  the 
loomhouse,  where  vScip,  the  little  fat  weaver, 
threw  the  shuttles  and  beat  up  the  home- 
spun cloth  from  morning  till  night ;  there, 
too,  were  the  warping-bars,  the  winding- 
blades,  and  the  little  quilling-wheel,  at  which 
a  boy  or  girl  would  fill  the  quills  to  be  in 
readiness  for  the  shuttles.  Scip  was  an  odd 
figure,  with  his  short  legs,  and  his  woolly 
hair  combed  out  until  his  head  looked  as 
big  as  a  bushel. 

The  dwellings  of  the  negroes  were  quite 
a  distance  from  the  "  Great  House,"  as  that 
of  the  master  was  called,  and  were  built  in 
two  or  more  long  rows  with  a  street  between. 
This  was  the  plan  upon  every  plantation. 
Each  house  had  a  front  and  back  piazza, 
and  a  garden,  which  was  cultivated  or 
allowed  to  run  wild  accordins:  to  the  thrift 
of  the  residents.  It  generally  was  stocked 
with  peach  and  apple  trees,  and  presented 
a  pretty  picture  in  spring,  when  the  blue 
smoke  from  the  houses  curled  up  to  the  sky 
amid  the  pink  blossoms,  while  the  drowsy 
hum  of  a  spinning-wheel  seemed  to  enhance 
the  quiet  of  the  peaceful  surroundings. 
25 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

The  church  at  Runiroi  was  large  and 
comfortably  furnished  with  seats ;  colored 
texts  were  upon  the  walls,  and  the  bell, 
which  summoned  the  people  on  Sunday 
mornings,  swung  amid  the  branches  of  a 
giant  oak.  Both  your  great-grandfather 
and  grandfather  employed  a  chaplain.  At 
Runiroi,  he  officiated  only  upon  alternate 
Sundays,  as  the  people  liked  best  to  listen 
to  Carpenter  Jim.  It  used  to  be  a  pretty 
sight  upon  a  Sunday  morning  to  see  the 
people,  all  dressed  in  their  clean  homespun 
clothes,  trooping  to  church,  laughing  and 
chattering  until  they  reached  the  door,  when 
they  immediately  would  assume  the  deep- 
est gravity  and  proceed  at  once  to  groan 
and  shake  themselves  more  and  more  at 
every  prayer.  The  singing  would  often 
sound  very  sweet  at  a  distance,  although 
I  must  confess  that  I  never  sympathized  in 
the  admiration  of  the  negro's  voice. 

Of  course,  like  all  other  laboring  classes, 
the  negroes  had  to  work,  and  of  course,  as 
they  had  not  the  incentive  of  poverty,  dis- 
cipline was  necessary.  They  knew  that 
they  would  be  housed,  clotlied  and  well  fed 
26 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


whether  they  earned  these  comforts  or  not; 
so,  in  order  to  Insure  dihgence,  rehable  men 
were  chosen  from  among  them  as  assistants 
to  the  white  overseers;  these  were  cahed 
"  foremen,"  and  were  looked  up  to  with 
respect  by  their  feUows.  Upon  every  large 
plantation  there  was  also  a  Foreman 
Flower,  his  business  being  to  take  the 
lead  and  see  that  the  plowing  was  well 
done  and  that  the  plow  horses  were  not 
maltreated.  With  the  settled  men  this  was 
unnecessary,  but  it  was  very  needful  with 
the  younger  hands.  These  colored  foremen 
were,  in  their  turn,  subject  to  the  overseers, 
who,  in  turn,  if  not  found  to  be  temperate 
and  reliable,  were  dismissed.  Upon  well- 
ordered  plantations  punishments  were  rare, 
I  may  say  unknown,  except  to  the  halfgrown 
youths.  Negroes,  being  somewhat  lacking 
in  moral  sense  or  fixed  principles,  are  singu- 
larly open  to  the  influence  of  example;  and 
thus  it  was  that  a  few  well-ordered  elders 
would  give  a  tone  to  the  whole  plantation, 
while  the  evil  influences  of  one  ill-disposed 
character  would  be  equally  pronounced. 
The  plantations  of  which  I  am  speaking 

2/ 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

were  singularly  remote,  being  so  surrounded 
by  other  large  plantations  that  they  were 
exempt  from  all  outside  and  pernicious  in- 
fluences. The  one  or  two  country  stores 
at  which  the  negroes  traded  might  have 
furnished  whiskey,  had  not  those  who  kept 
them  stood  too  much  in  awe  of  the  plant- 
ers to  incur  the  risk  of  their  displeasure. 
As  the  town  of  Halifax  could  boast  of  sev- 
eral little  stores,  and  was  the  trading  post 
of  Feltons,  Conacanara,  and  Montrose,  your 
great-grandfather,  in  order  to  prevent  the 
evils  of  promiscuous  trading,  caused  certain 
coins  to  be  struck  off,  of  no  value  except  to 
the  one  merchant  with  whom  his  people 
were  allowed  to  trade. 

Perhaps  you  will  be  surprised  to  know 
how  important  to  the  country  merchants 
was  the  trade  of  a  plantation,  so  I  will  ex- 
plain to  you  of  what  it  consisted.  Of  course, 
a  few  of  the  careless,  content  with  the  abun- 
dance provided  for  them,  did  not  care  to 
accumulate,  while  others,  naturally  thrifty, 
amassed  a  good  deal  from  the  sale  of  otter, 
coon,  mink,  and  other  skins  of  animals 
trapped.  Then,  some  owned  as  many  as 
28 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


thirty  beehives.  One  old  woman,  known 
as  "  Honey  Beck,"  once  hauled  thirty  or 
more  gallons  of  honey  to  Halifax  and  back 
again,  the  whole  distance  (twenty-five  miles), 
rather  than  take  a  low  price  for  it.  Besides 
skins,  honey,  and  beeswax,  eggs  and  poultry 
were  always  salable.  One  of  my  necessi- 
ties in  housekeeping  was  a  bag  of  small 
change,  and,  as  I  never  refused  to  take  what 
was  brought  to  me,  my  pantry  was  often  so 
overstocked  with  eggs  and  my  coops  with 
ducks  and  chickens,  that  it  was  a  hard  mat- 
ter to  know  how  to  consume  them. 

The  beautiful  white  shad,  now  so  highly 
prized  in  our  markets,  were  then  a  drug. 
It  was  the  prettiest  sight  in  the  early  dawn 
of  a  spring  morning  to  see  the  fishermen 
skimming  dow^n  the  broad  river  with  their 
dip-nets  poised  for  a  catch.  My  opportuni- 
ties for  seeing  them  at  that  early  hour  were 
from  my  bedroom  window,  when  I  hap- 
pened to  be  visiting  the  family  at  Conaca- 
nara.  Our  home  at  Runiroi  stood  some  dis- 
tance from  the  river,  but  the  dwelling  at 
Conacanara  was  upon  a  bluff  just  over  the 
stream. 

29 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


Beside  the  sale  crops  of  cotton  and  corn, 
sweet  potatoes  were  raised  in  large  quanti- 
ties for  the  negroes,  to  which  they  were  al- 
lowed to  help  themselves  without  stint,  also 
a  summer  patch  of  coarse  vegetables  such 
as  they  liked. 

The  regular  food  furnished  consisted  of 
corn  meal,  bacon  or  pickled  pork,  varied 
with  beef  in  the  autumn,  when  the  beeves 
were  fat,  salt  fish  with  less  meat  when  de- 
sired, molasses,  dried  peas  and  pumpkins 
without  stint  (I  mean  the  peas  and  pump- 
kins). I  don't  suppose  any  laboring  class 
ever  lived  in  such  plenty. 

A  woman  with  a  family  of  children  al- 
ways had  the  use  of  a  cow,  the  only  proviso 
being  that  she  should  look  after  the  calf 
and  see  that  it  did  not  suffer,  for  .your 
grandfather  was  particular  about  his  ox 
teams;  they  were  the  finest  that  I  ever  saw, 
and  were  well  blooded, —  Holstein  for  size 
and  Devon  for  speed  and  activity. 

Our  dairy  was  very  pretty;  it  was  built  of 
immense  square  logs,  with  a  paved  brick 
floor,  and  great  broad  shelves  all  around. 
The  roof  was  shaded  by  hackberry  trees, 
30 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


and  the  grass  around  it  was  like  velvet,  so 
thick  and  green.  Old  Aunt  Betty,  who  was 
the  dairy  woman  until  she  grew  too  infirm, 
was  the  neatest  creature  imaginable;  she 
wore  the  highest  of  turbans,  and  her  clothes 
were  spotless.  She  took  the  greatest  pride 
in  her  dairy;  for  milk  vessels  she  used  great 
calibashes  with  wooden  covers,  and,  as  they 
naturally  were  absorbent,  it  was  necessary 
to  sun  one  set  while  another  was  in  use. 
She  kept  them  beautifully,  and  the  milk 
and  butter  were  delicious. 

There  was  a  man  upon  the  plantation 
called  "  Shoe  Joe,"  or  "  Gentleman  Joe."  He 
had,  when  a  young  man,  been  body-servant 
to  his  young  master  George,  your  great- 
grandfather's brother.  I  never  in  my  life 
have  seen  finer  manners  than  Joe's,  so 
deeply  respectful,  and  so  full  of  courtesy. 
Notwithstanding  his  really  fine  deportment, 
Joe's  nature  was  low  and  mean,  and  some- 
thing that  he  did  so  offended  his  young 
master  that,  to  Joe's  great  disgust,  he  was 
remanded  back  to  the  plantation  and  field 
work.  In  consequence  of  this,  he  always  bore 
his  young  master  a  grudge,  which,  of  course, 
31 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

he  kept  to  himself.  Once,  however,  he  made 
some  disrespectful  speech  before  old  Betty, 
who  was  devoted  to  her  Master  George,  and 
this  so  offended  her  that  she  never  again 
spoke  to  Joe,  nor  allowed  him  to  make  her 
shoes,  though  this  last  was  more  from  fear 
tlian  vindictiveness.  For  Shoe  Joe  was  sus- 
pected of  being  a  trick  negro,  and  of  pos- 
sessing the  power  so  to  trick  his  work  as 
to  cause  the  death  of  any  one  wearing  his 
products.  Nothing  was  productive  of  more 
evil  upon  a  plantation  than  was  the  exist- 
ence upon  it  of  a  "  Trick  "  or  "  Goomer  " 
negro;  and  so  insidious  was  their  influence, 
and  so  secret  their  machinations,  that, 
though  suspected,  it  was  impossible  to  prove 
anything,  for,  although  detested  by  their 
fellows,  fear  kept  the  latter  silent.  Nothing 
would  cause  such  abject  terror  as  the  dis- 
covery of  an  odd-looking  bundle,  wrapped 
and  wrapped  with  strands  of  horse-hair, 
secreted  beneath  the  steps,  or  laid  in  an 
accustomed  path.  Instantly  after  such  a 
discovery  the  person  for  whom  it  was  meant 
would  begin  to  pine  away,  and,  unless  some 
counter  spell  were  discovered,  death  would 
32 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


ensue.  These  occurrences, fortunately,  were 
rare,  but  if  the  thing  once  took  root  upon 
a  plantation,  it  wrought  much  evil  in  vari- 
ous ways.  Joe  was  suspected  of  these  evil 
practices,  and,  though  a  wonderfully  capa- 
ble man  at  all  kinds  of  work,  and  a  most 
accomplished  courtier,  was  always  looked 
upon  with  suspicion.  His  death  was  sud- 
den, and  the  people  firmly  believed  that  he 
had  made  a  compact  with  the  devil,  that  the 
term  had  expired,  and  that  Satan  had  met 
him  in  the  woods  and  broken  his  neck.  He 
was  a  tall,  finely  formed  man,  as  black  as 
ebony,  and  his  movements  always  reminded 
me  of  a  serpent. 

Negroes,  even  in  these  days  of  school 
education,  retain  many  of  their  superstitions, 
though  ashamed  to  own  it.  One  of  their 
beliefs  was  that  the  word  yo2i  meant  the 
devil's  wife,  and  it  was  insulting  to  address 
any  one  by  that  word.  To  one  another  it 
was  always  yinna.  So  marked  was  this 
custom  that  the  negroes  of  that  section  were 
known  as  the  yinna  negroes.  This  word, 
though,  was  never  used  toward  their  supe- 
riors, who  were  invariably  addressed  in  the 
33 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

third  person.  Manuel  was  rather  a  common 
name  among  them;  there  were  always  two 
or  three  Manuels  upon  every  plantation,  and 
one  was  always  called  "  Hoodie  Manuel." 
No  one  could  ever  discover  what  this  meant; 
perhaps  they  did  not  know  themselves, 
though  I  am  rather  inclined  to  think  that 
it  was  a  superstitious  observance,  under- 
stood, perhaps,  only  by  a  select  few.  I  think 
it  must  have  had  some  sort  of  significance, 
as  it  was  never  omitted.  As  soon  as  one 
Hoodie  Manuel  died,  another  Manuel  as- 
sumed the  title,  though  not  always  the 
oldest. 

It  was  not  required  of  a  woman  with  a 
large  family  to  do  field  work.  Such  women 
had  their  regular  tasks  of  spinning  allotted 
to  them,  sufficiently  light  to  allow  ample 
time  to  take  care  of  their  houses  and  chil- 
dren. The  younger  women  (unless  delicate) 
left  their  children  in  a  day  nursery  in  charge 
of  an  elderly  woman  who  was  caretaker. 
Usually  they  preferred  field  work,  as  being 
more  lively ;  but  if  one  disliked  it,  she  usu- 
ally soon  contrived  to  be  classed  among  the 
spinners. 

34 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


When,  occasionally,  I  happened  to  go  to 
any  of  the  houses,  often  quite  unexpectedly, 
I  can  assert  truthfully  that  I  never,  in  a 
single  instance,  saw  dirt  or  squalor  in  one 
of  them.  The  floors  were  clean,  the  beds 
comfortable,  with  white  and  wonderfully 
clean  blankets.  Everything,  though  very 
homely,  with  clumsy  benches  and  tables, 
looked  white  and  thoroughly  clean.  I  re- 
member hearing  your  grandfather  speak  of 
once  going  at  breakfast  time  to  a  house  to 
visit  a  sick  child.  The  man  of  the  house 
was  seated  at  a  small  table  while  his  wife 
served  him.  The  table  was  covered  with 
an  immaculately  clean  homespun  cloth,  and 
coffee,  in  a  tin  pot  shining  with  scrubbing, 
either  sugar  or  molasses,  I  forget  which,  a 
dish  of  beautifully  fried  bacon  and  hoecakes, 
fresh  from  the  fire,  constituted  his  plain  but 
most  abundant  meal. 

Separation  of  families  has  ever  been  a  fa- 
vorite plea  for  the  abolition  of  slavery,  and  I 
admit  that  in  theory  it  was  a  plausible  argu- 
ment ;  and  justice  compels  me  to  say  that 
such  instances,  though  rare,  were  not  un- 
known. As  a  rule,  however,  family  ties  were 
35 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

respected,  and  when,  through  the  settlement 
of  an  estate,  such  separations  seemed  im- 
pending, they  were  usually  prevented  by 
some  agreement  between  the  parties ;  for  in- 
stance, if  a  negro  man  had  married  a  woman 
belonging  to  another  planter,  a  compromise 
was  generally  effected  by  the  purchase  of 
one  of  the  parties,  regardless  of  self-inter- 
est on  the  part  of  the  owners.  Thus  fami- 
lies were  kept  together  without  regard  to 
any  pecuniary  loss.  Public  sentiment  was 
against  the  severing  of  family  ties. 

Before  I  close  this  little  sketch  I  will 
tell  you  as  well  as  I  can  the  outline  of  plan- 
tation work. 

With  the  beginning  of  a  new  year,  the 
crop  being  all  housed,  the  sale  corn  being 
stored  in  large  barns  or  cribs  on  the  river 
banks,  and  the  cotton  either  being  sold  or 
kept  for  better  prices,  the  plowing,  ditching, 
and,  when  the  swamps  were  full,  the  float- 
ing out  of  timber,  were  all  carried  on  with 
great  diligence.  At  Christmas,  when  all  the 
clothing,  shoes,  and  Kilmarnock  caps  had 
been  given  out  to  the  ditchers,  high  water- 
proof boots  were  distributed.  It  was  the 
36 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


custom  to  allow  to  every  man  who  desired 
it  a  bit  of  land,  upon  which,  in  his  spare 
time,  to  cultivate  a  small  crop,  for  which  he 
was  paid  the  market  price.  Christmas  was 
the  usual  day  chosen  for  settling  these 
accounts,  and  the  broad  piazza  was  full 
of  happy,  grinning  black  faces  gathered 
around  the  table  at  which  the  master  sat, 
with  his  account-book  and  bags  of  'specie. 
A  deep  obeisance  and  a  scrape  of  the  foot 
accompanied  each  payment,  and  many  a 
giggle  was  given  to  the  lazy  one  whose 
small  payment  testified  to  his  indolence. 
What  a  contrast  between  those  happy, 
sleek,  laughing  faces  and  the  sullen,  care- 
worn, ill-fed  ones  of  now!  In  the  early 
springtime,  what  was  known  as  the  "  trash- 
gang,"  that  is,  boys  and  girls  who  had  never 
worked,  were  set  to  clearing  up  fences, 
knocking  down  cotton  stalks,  and  burning 
small  trash  piles. 

I  pause  here  to  say  that,  the  woodlands 
being  a  long  distance  from  the  quarters, 
the  supply  of  fuel  was  a  serious  question, 
and  when  there  was  a  threat  of  snow  or 
increasing  cold,  every  man  would  be  em- 
37 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

ployed  in  cutting  or  hauling  a  supply  of 
fuel  to  the  houses. 

Planting  time  began  with  the  middle  of 
March.  In  August  the  crops  were  "laid 
by."  The  three  days'  holiday  began  with 
the  slaughter  of  pigs  and  beeves,  in  prepa- 
ration for  the  annual  dinner  upon  every 
plantation.  After  holiday  came  the  fodder- 
pulling,  a  job  hated  by  all,  especially  by  over- 
seer and  master,  as  the  drenching  dews  and 
the  hot  sun  combined  to  make  much  sick- 
ness. This  work  was  never  begun  until  late 
in  the  morning,  but  even  after  the  sun  had 
shone  upon  the  fields,  the  people  would  be 
drenched  in  dew  to  their  waists.  Next,  the 
whitening  fields  told  that  cotton-picking 
must  begin,  and,  later  on,  a  killing  frost 
upon  the  already  browning  shucks  sent  the 
great  wagons  to  the  fields,  where  the  corn- 
gatherers,  with  sharp  needles  tied  to  their 
wrists,  ripped  open  the  tough  shucks  and 
let  loose  the  well-hardened  ears  of  grain. 
As  each  field  became  stripped,  stock  would 
be  turned  in  to  feast  upon  the  peas  and 
pumpkins. 

With  winter  came  that  period  of  bliss  to 
38 


PLANTATION  LIFE 


the  soul  of  Cuffee,  namely,  the  hog-killing, 
when  even  the  smallest  urchin  might  revel 
in  grease  and  fresh  meat. 

If  eyesight  permitted,  I  might  tell  you 
some  tales  of  plantation  doings  which  might 
perhaps  amuse  you,  but  I  have  said  enough 
to  give  you  some  idea  of  the  old  Southern 
life.  All  that  I  have  said  is  within  bounds, 
but,  after  all,  I  fear  I  have  not  been  able  to 
give  you  an  adequate  idea  of  the  peaceful- 
ness  and  abundance  of  life  upon  a  great 
plantation. 


GOING  TO  THE  PLANTATION 


UMMER  is  over;  the  nights 
grow  chill,  and  the  autumnal 
tints,  beginning  to  glow  upon 
the  hillsides,  tell  the  low-coun- 
try folk  that  the  time  draws  near  for  the 
yearly  flitting  to  their  plantation  homes. 
The  planter,  who  passes  the  hot  season 
amid  the  breezy  uplands,  begins  to  think 
of  his  whitening  cotton  fields,  and  grows 
impatient  for  the  frost,  which  must  fall  ere 
the  family  may  venture  into  the  land  of 
swamps  and  agues.  He  looks  out  upon  the 
flower-beds,  glowing  with  life  and  quivering 
in  the  sunshine,  and  listens  to  the  incessant 
shrill-voiced  cicada  piping  from  the  tree- 
tops,  while  the  insect-drone,  in  the  heated, 
languid  air,  seems  to  speak  of  an  unending 
summer;  but  as  all  things  come  to  him 
who  waits,"  so  at  length  come  the  frosts  to 
the  planter. 

The  week  preceding  the  departure  is  a 
40 


GOING  TO  THE  PLANTATION 

busy  one,  embracing,  along  with  the  num- 
berless good-byes,  many  important  after- 
thoughts in  the  way  of  providing  the 
necessities  required  in  the  isolated  home, 
where  shops  are  unknown.  At  length, 
however,  the  great  boxes  are  closed,  and 
stand  ready  for  the  daylight  start  of  the 
wagon  ;  the  bird-cage,  the  basket  of  kittens, 
and  the  puppy  are  also  committed  by  the 
children  to  "  Ung  Jack,"  the  teamster,  who, 
with  the  broadest  of  smiles,  promises  "little 
missis  "  and  the  "  little  masters  "  to  take 
the  best  of  care  of  them. 

Giving  the  baggage  a  day's  start,  the 
family's  departure  takes  place  on  the  day 
folldwing.  After  an  early  breakfast.  Mammy 
and  the  younger  children  bundle  into  the 
big  carriage,  mother  and  the  rest  of  the 
little  mob  follow  in  the  barouche,  while  papa, 
who  abhors  the  confinement  of  a  carriage, 
follows  on  horseback.  Although  the  ani- 
mal which  he  bestrides  is  a  noble  specimen 
of  his  kind,  still  it  must  be  confessed  that 
papa  does  not  present  a  jaunty  appearance 
as  he  jogs  soberly  along;  and  yet,  as  he  sits 
easily  swaying  in  the  saddle,  there  is  about 
41 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

him  a  careless  grace  which  marks  the  nat- 
ural horseman. 

Three  days  are  consumed  upon  the  jour- 
ney. It  might  be  made  in  less  time;  but  the 
party  prefer  to  take  it  easily,  and  at  mid- 
day make  a  halt  by  a  running  stream,  where, 
seated  upon  a  fallen  log  or  mossy  bank, 
they  open  their  well-stored  baskets,  and 
dine.  The  horses  utter  impatient  whinnies 
as  their  drivers  dip  their  buckets  into  the 
sparkling  water  of  the  little  stream,  and, 
when  these  are  lifted  to  their  heads,  thirstily 
thrust  their  muzzles  into  the  cool  depths, 
and  drink  long  and  deeply  of  the  refreshing 
draughts. 

At  sunset,  the  tired  little  ones  begin  to 
look  out  for  the  white  chimneys  of  old 
John  Tayler's  wayside  inn,  where  they  are 
to  pass  the  night.  This  house  has,  for  gen- 
erations, been  the  halting-place  for  plant- 
ers' families.  Tayler's  grandfather  and  his 
father  have  entertained  bygone  generations ; 
and  so  it  is  not  strange  that,  when  the  little 
cortege  draw  up  before  the  old  piazza,  and 
the  red  light  from  the  pine  blaze  streams 
out  from  the  open  door,  not  only  old  John, 
42 


GOING  TO  THE  PLANTATION 


but  his  wife  and  two  elderly  daughters 
stand  with  beaming  faces  to  give  the  trav- 
elers a  hearty  greeting,  kindly  to  usher  them 
into  the  carpetless  room  and  seat  them 
upon  the  stiff  "  split-bottomed  "  chairs. 
While  the  women  busy  themselves  in 
getting  supper,  old  John  talks  crops  and 
politics  to  his  guests,  who,  on  their  part, 
calmly  accept  the  discomforts  of  the  little 
inn  as  one  of  the  unalterable  laws  of  nature, 
without  any  idea  of  the  possibility  of  im- 
provement, swallow  without  complaint  the 
nauseous  coffee,  and  rest  philosophically 
under  the  home-made  sheets  and  blankets, 
feebly  wondering  that  so  much  weight 
should  contain  so  little  warmth. 

When  supper  is  over,  the  women  throw 
a  fresh  torch  upon  the  fn-e,  and,  as  it 
crackles  up  the  wide  chimney,  and  sends 
its  red  light  and  sweet  odors  over  the  room, 
they  set  themselves  to  their  tasks  of  picking 
the  seeds  from  the  "  raw  cotton,"  for,  being 
famous  spinners  and  weavers,  they  disdain 
that  which  has  had  its  staples  torn  by  the 
teeth  of  the  gin. 

Upon  the  second  day,  the  party  leave 
43 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

the  hills,  now  gorgeous  in  their  autumnal 
brilliancy,  the  rocky  roads,  and  the  swiftly 
running  streams  of  the  up-country,  and 
enter  the  lonely  region  where  the  great 
turpentine  trees  rear  their  lofty  crests,  and 
interminable  sandy  roads  stretch  away  into 
dimness  between  columns  of  stately  pines 
whose  lofty  tops  make  solemn  music  to  the 
sighing  wind. 

The  third  day  finds  them  in  "  The 
Slashes,"  a  desolate  region  inhabited  by 
squatters.  As  they  jolt  over  corduroy  roads 
between  pools  of  stagnant  waters,  the  trav- 
elers look  out  wearily  upon  a  sparse  growth 
of  gallberry  and  scrub-pine.  Now  and  then 
they  pass  the  solitary  hut  of  a  charcoal- 
burner,  surrounded  by  its  little  patch  of 
meagre  corn ;  a  pack  of  cur  dogs  rush  out 
and  bark  fiercely,  within  the  safe  limits  of 
the  wattle  fence  surrounding  the  premises ; 
white-headed  children  gaze  from  the  door- 
ways at  the  passing  carriages. 

At  the  last  settlement  which  they  pass, 
a  woman  and  a  small,  pale-faced  boy  are 
gathering  in  their  corn  crop.  They  are  the 
wife  and  son  of  Bolin  Brazle,  an  idle  but 
44 


GOING  TO  THE  PLANTATION 


good-natured  vagabond,  who  spends  his 
days  scraping  upon  his  fiddle  up  at  the  store, 
or  occasionally,  upon  the  promise  of  a  drink, 
lending  a  hand  in  rafting  tar-barrels.  In 
consequence  of  the  presentation  of  a  worn- 
out  mule,  Bolin  swears  by  the  planter, 
wants  to  run  him  for  the  presidency,  and 
obstinately  refuses  to  receive  pay  for  his 
charcoal.  The  matter  is  finally  arranged  by 
a  barrel  of  corn  being  sent  as  a  present 
whenever  a  load  of  charcoal  is  needed. 

Soon  after  leaving  the  "  Slashes,"  a  hud- 
dle of  houses  standing  irregularly  in  a  grove 
of  magnificent  oaks  comes  into  view.  In 
passing  the  one  which  does  double  duty  as 
store  and  post-office,  the  travellers  look  at 
it  with  the  realization  that  it  is  the  connect- 
ing link  with  the  outside  world,  as  from 
it  the  bi-weekly  mail  is  dispensed.  Inside, 
some  one  (Brazle,  no  doubt)  is  scraping 
a  lively  jig  upon  his  fiddle;  on  the  long 
piazza  men,  lounging  in  chairs  tilted  against 
the  wall,  take  off  their  hats  to  the  carriages 
as  they  roll  by.  The  planter  draws  his  rein 
for  a  little  friendly  greeting,  and  the  men, 
squirting  tobacco  juice,  stand  around  and 
45 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


lazily  report  the  country-side  news  as  to 
the  opening  of  the  cotton,  the  state  of  the 
river,  etc.  Even  the  screech  of  the  fiddle 
has  died  away. 

The  long  descents  of  the  ferry  hill  com- 
mence, and  the  carriages  roll  pleasantly  be- 
tween deeply  wooded  banks.  The  approach 
to  the  river  is  marked  by  long  rows  of  tar- 
barrels  awaiting  shipment,  or  rather  rafting. 
From  this  point  the  road  has  become  a  sort ' 
of  concrete  from  years  of  leakage  from  the 
tar-barrels.  The  children  shriek  with  joy 
as  the  carriages  come  to  a  stop,  and,  cran- 
ing their  heads  out,  they  behold  the  great 
tawny  river  in  all  its  majesty.  The  repeated 
hallooings  for  the  ferryman  are  at  length 
responded  to  from  far  upstream.  The  old 
scamp  is  off  fishing,  and  the  party  seek 
the  shade,  where  a  spring  of  clear  water 
bubbles  from  a  bank.  While  the  children 
are  drinking  copious  draughts,  the  parents 
stroll  off  and  take  a  woodland  path,  which, 
after  many  a  twist  and  turn  amid  thickets 
of  sweet  myrtle  and  purple-berried  Bermuda 
Shrub,  brings  them  to  the  summit  of  "  The 
Blufif." 

46 


GOING  TO  THE  PLANTATION 


Standing  there,  they  look  down  upon  the 
river,  two  hundred  feet  below.  Upon  the 
further  side  lie  fields,  all  brown  and  golden 
in  the  sunshine,  level  and  limitless ;  they 
stretch  into  the  purple  dimness  where 
cypress  trees  loom  upon  the  horizon,  their 
fiat  tops  mingling  dreamily  with  the  soft 
autumnal  hazes.  Far  away,  amid  the  sun- 
bathed fields,  stand  the  trees  which  shelter 
the  plantation  home,  whose  chimneys  and 
white  gables  are  scarce  visible  save  where  a 
stray  sunbeam  falls  upon  them. 

"  So  to  the  Jews  fair  Canaan  stood, 
While  Jordan  rolled  between," 

murmured  the  mother,  as  she  glanced  at 
her  husband,  to  whom  she  knew  the  lands 
spread  before  them  were,  by  inheritance 
and  long  association,  far  dearer  than  could 
be  measured  by  the  mere  money  value. 

Descending  again  to  the  ferry,  they  find 
the  carriage  already  in  the  flat,  and  the 
children  scarce  restrained  by  Mammy  from 
crossing  without  their  elders.  They  draw 
deep  breaths  of  delight  as  they  watch  old 
Bartley,  with  active  limp,  loosen  the  chain, 
and,  planting  his  iron-shod  pole  deep  into 
47 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

the  grating  sands,  send  the  flat  upstream ; 
then,  at  a  given  point,  they  watch  with 
intense  admiration  his  skill  in  taking  the 
sweeps  and  shooting  swiftly  to  the  other 
side. 

The  horses  know  that  they  are  near  home, 
and  prick  up  their  ears,  and  go  briskly  on- 
ward. Scarcely  a  quarter  of  a  mile  is  gone 
before  the  buildings  of  the  "  lower  planta- 
tion" come  into  view, —  a  row  of  cabins 
built  irregularly  upon  the  highest  points 
straggle  along  the  river  banks.  Each  cabin 
has  its  little  garden  with  its  row  of  coleworts 
and  its  beehives,  or  perhaps  a  pumpkin  or 
two  shows  its  yellow  sides  amid  the  withered 
vines.  Outside  the  cabins,  fish-nets  are 
hung  to  dry,  and  from  within  comes  the 
sleepy  drone  of  a  spinning-wheel;  about 
the  doorstep  hens  are  scratching,  while 
from  around  the  corner  a  cluster  of  little 
woolly  heads  peep  out  shyly. 

Standing  in  the  mellow  sunlight,  amid 
fields  of  ripening  corn,  with  the  river  gently 
flowing  between  levees  of  such  strength 
as  to  set  floods  at  defiance,  these  cabins 
seem  the  very  embodiment  of  peaceful  se- 
48 


GOING  TO  THE  PLANTATION 


curity;  the  high  piles,  though,  upon  which 
they  stand,  are  rather  suggestive,  and  give 
a  hint  of  what  the  now  peacefully  flowing 
stream  is  capable  of  when  roused. 

A  story  is  told  of  an  old  negro  who 
obstinately  refused  to  leave  his  house  at  a 
time  when  the  unusually  high  water  made 
it  necessary  to  remove  the  people  to  a  place 
of  greater  security.  The  rafts  were  ready, 
and  the  people,  scared  and  anxious,  had  left 
their  houses,  and  now  only  waited  for  old 
Todge,  who,  with  mulish  persistence,  re- 
fused to  be  moved.  At  length,  unable  to 
persuade  him,  and  afraid  to  wait  longer, 
they  poled  the  rafts  away.  For  the  first 
few  hours  Todge  got  on  very  well.  He  had 
plenty  of  provisions,  and,  as  for  the  isola- 
tion, he  did  not  care  for  it.  By  and  by  the 
water  began  to  make  its  appearance  upon 
his  hearth,  and,  before  long,  his  little  bank 
of  coal,  upon  which  his  bread  was  baking, 
began  to  sizzle,  and  soon  became  a  moist 
and  blackened  heap.  Todge,  however,  was 
not  imaginative,  and  when  night  fell,  he  lay 
down  upon  his  bed  and  slept  without  fear; 
that  is,  he  slept  until  his  bed  began  to  float, 
49 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

then  he  awoke  and  groped  his  way  neck 
deep  in  water  until  he  found  his  ladder  and 
managed  by  it  to  climb  up  into  his  loft, 
where  he  sat  shivering,  till  suddenly  he 
felt  the  cabin  give  a  lurch,  and  the  water 
rushed  in.  It  had  been  lifted  clear  off  the 
piles,  and  when  it  should  settle  down  poor 
Todge  would  be  caught  like  a  rat  in  a  hole. 
It  was  settling  fast,  and  the  water  was  gur- 
gling into  poor  Todge's  ears,  when,  in  des- 
peration, he  made  a  bolt  at  the  roof,  and, 
using  his  head  as  a  battering  ram,  succeeded 
in  knocking  a  hole  in  it,  through  which  he 
contrived  to  creep  out.  Luckily,  the  point 
of  the  chimney  was  not  quite  submerged, 
and  Todge  was  rescued  in  the  course  of 
the  following  day. 

The  road,  following  the  winding  of  the 
river,  is  bordered  by  giant  trees  from  whose 
branches  the  gray  moss  waves  dreamily, 
while  leaves  of  palest  yellow  drop  and 
silently  float  through  the  still  air  until  they 
fall  into  the  stream.  In  the  fields,  the  corn- 
gatherers  pause  to  doff  their  hats  and  smile 
their  welcome.  Ere  long  the  barns  and 
workshops  of  the  upper  plantation  become 
50 


GOING  TO  THE  PLANTATION 


visible.  The  tall  gables  and  chimneys  of 
the  great  house  glisten  in  the  sunlight. 
They  pass  the  little  church,  with  its  bell 
half  hidden  amid  the  brown  leaves  of  the 
great  oak  from  which  it  dangles ;  from 
cabin  chimneys,  half  hidden  in  trees,  thin 
columns  of  smoke  ascend  and  mingle  with 
the  soft  blue  sky. 

At  the  open  gate,  a  broadly  smiling 
dusky  group  stands  with  welcome  depicted 
upon  every  face.  Hearty  handshakes  of 
real  affection  are  exchanged,  while  the 
children  are  being  hugged,  caressed, 
laughed  over,  and  extolled  for  their  growth 
and  beauty.  The  master  and  mistress  pass 
under  the  trees,  whose  long  shadows  rest 
upon  the  soft,  green  grass  between  streams 
of  sunshine.  The  old  piazza,  gilded  into 
brightness,  smiles  a  welcome  home. 


MY  OWN  EARLY  HOME 


WAS  born  at  the  old  home  in 
Raleigh,  upon  the  land  origi- 
nally held  by  my  great-grand- 
father, Colonel  Lane,  from  the 
Crown.  It  had  been  the  home  of  my  grand- 
father, Harry  Lane,  and  of  his  wife,  Mary, 
and  it  was  there  that  their  children  and 
grandchildren  were  born.  When  my  oldest 
brother  attained  his  majority,  he  took  pos- 
session of  this  place,  while  my  mother  set- 
tled at  Wills  Forest,  which  was  also  part  of 
the  Lane  land.  This,  Wills  Forest,  became 
our  beloved  summer  home,  which  I  in- 
herited at  the  death  of  my  dear  mother. 
At  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  between 
the  states,  your  grandfather  left  to  his 
subordinates  his  plantation  interests  in  the 
eastern  part  of  the  state,  and  Wills  Forest 
became  our  permanent  home.  Although 
you  never  saw  this  place  in  its  palmy  days, 
still,  you  are  too  well  acquainted  with  its 
52 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

My  grandfather,  Harry  Lane,  inherited 
his  father's  Hberal  and  open-hearted  nature, 
and  the  old  home,  even  since  the  death  of 
my  brother,  still  maintains  its  character  for 
genial  hospitality.  Nor  was  Wills  Forest 
inferior  to  it  in  that  respect.  My  mother, 
accustomed  from  earliest  youth  to  lavish 
housekeeping,  kept  it  up  after  her  removal 
to  Wills  Forest,  and,  so  long  as  her  health 
permitted,  ever  took  delight  in  making  her 
home  all  that  a  kindly,  open-handed  hos- 
pitality could.  Nor  do  I  think  its  character 
deteriorated  after  your  grandfather  became 
its  master.  Both  he  and  I  were  fond  of 
society,  and  few  strangers  ever  came  to 
town  who  were  not  entertained  at  Wills 
Forest.  This  could  not  be  possible  now, 
but  previous  to  the  war  it  was  not  at  all 
impossible,  and,  during  the  war,  at  times,  we 
received  whole  families  of  refugees.  I  do 
not  mention  these  facts  in  a  boastful  spirit, 
but  only  as  a  sample  of  the  old  customs  of 
the  South. 

During  the  winter  of  1865,  we  had  the 
pleasure  of  entertaining  the  family  of  Colo- 
nel Norris  of  Baltimore,  and  early  in  March 
54 


MY  OWN  EARLY  HOME 

we  had  an  unexpected  visit  from  a  large 
party  of  South  Carohnians,  who  had  been 
wounded  in  an  attack  made  by  General  Kil- 
patrick  upon  Gen.  Joseph  E.  Johnstons 
command  at  Fayetteville.  Your  grandfather 
met  them  in  the  street  seeking  for  shelter; 
and,  compassionating  their  forlorn  condi- 
tion, he  directed  them  to  Wills  Forest. 
When  we  first  caught  sight  of  the  cortege 
surrounding  two  ambulances,  we  were 
alarmed,  thinking  that  it  must  be  the 
Yankees  coming  to  deprive  us  of  house 
and  home.  You  may,  perhaps,  imagine  the 
relief  when  I  saw  the  dear  Confederate  gray. 
I  met  the  cavalcade  at  the  front  steps,  and 
bade  them  welcome ;  the  wounded  were 
brought  in  and  laid  upon  beds  in  the  nur- 
sery, after  which  I  directed  one  of  our  men, 
Frank,  the  carriage-driver,  I  think  it  was,  to 
conduct  the  horsemen  to  the  stable,  to  give 
the  horses  a  plentiful  feed,  and  then  to  bring 
the  men  up  to  the  house  to  get  their  dinners. 
In  ordinary  times,  this  unlooked-for  addition 
of  more  than  twenty  guests  would,  no  doubt, 
have  been  an  unwelcome  tax,  but  in  those 
days  preceding  the  sad  termination  of  the 
55 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES  . 

war  there  were  so  many  poor,  half-starved 
stragglers  from  the  different  commands 
passing  to  and  fro,  that  we  were  never  un- 
prepared to  feed  as  many  as  called  upon  us. 
At  this  time,  two  cooks  were  kept  continu- 
ally at  work  in  the  kitchen  preparing  such 
plain  food  as  we  could  command :  such  as 
boiled  hams,  biscuit,  loaf  bread,  corn  bread, 
and  wheat  coffee.  The  milk  and  butter,  all 
that  we  had,  were  joyfully  given  to  our  sol- 
diers. The  gray  jacket  was,  indeed,  a  pass- 
port to  every  Southern  heart.  I  have  fed 
many  a  poor,  footsore  "  boy  in  gray,"  but 
never  in  a  single  instance  heard  a  despond- 
ent word  from  one  of  tliem.  Most  grateful 
they  were  for  their  good,  abundant  meals, 
but  often  too  modest  to  carry  any  away  in 
their  haversacks. 

In  times  of  peace,  both  before  and  after 
the  war,  the  social  life  at  the  table,  with 
family  and  always  welcome  friends,  was  a 
source  of  much  pleasure.  For  a  dinner  of 
ten  or  twelve  persons,  including  ourselves, 
there  would  be  a  ham  at  the  head,  a  large 
roast  turkey  at  the  foot,  a  quarter  of  boiled 
mutton,  a  round  of  beef  a  la  mode,  and  a 
56 


MY  OWN  EARLY  HOME 


boiled  turkey  stuffed  with  oysters.  In  the 
middle  of  the  table  would  be  celery  in  tall 
cut-glass  stands,  on  the  sides  cranberries  in 
moulds  and  various  kinds  of  pickles.  With 
these  would  be  served  either  four  or  six 
dishes  of  vegetables  and  scalloped  oysters, 
handed  hot  from  the  plate-warmer.  The 
dessert  would  be  a  plum  pudding,  clear 
stewed  apples  with  cream,  with  a  waiter  in 
the  centre  filled  with  calf's-foot  jelly,  syl- 
lalDub  in  glasses,  and  cocoanut  or  cheese- 
cake puddings  at  the  corners.  The  first 
cloth  was  removed  with  the  meats.  For 
a  larger  entertainment  a  roast  pig  would 
be  added,  ice-cream  would  take  the  place 
of  stewed  apples.  The  dessert  cloth  would 
be  removed  with  the  dessert,  and  the  de- 
canters and  fruit  set  upon  the  bare  mahog- 
any, with  the  decanters  in  coasters  ;  cigars 
would  follow,  after  the  ladies  had  left,  of 
course. 

At  the  time  of  the  surrender,  General  Lo- 
gan borrowed,  or  asked  to  borrow,  my  tables 
and  cut-glass  tumblers  and  wine-glasses  ;  as 
such  a  request  meant  an  order,  I,  of  course, 
allowed  them  to  be  taken;  to  my  surprise  all 
57 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


were  returned.  Generals  Grant  and  Sher- 
man were  entertained  by  Logan  at  this  time, 
the  tables  being  set  before  his  tent  in  the 
grove. 

When  my  two  little  girls  went  to  day 
school  at  St.  Mary's,  their  dinners  were  sent 
to  them  by  a  negro  boy  or  man.  He  carried 
the  basket  of  hot  dinner,  while  another  car- 
ried the  ice  for  their  water,  while  another 
often  walked  behind  bearing  a  large  water- 
melon. As  the  other  day-pupils  dined  in  a 
similar  way,  the  road  at  this  time  of  day 
would  be  full  of  negroes  carrying  dinners. 

Since  these  bygone  days,  knowledge  has 
increased,  and  men  go  to  and  fro  with  ease 
between  the  far  corners  of  the  earth  ;  but  I 
do  not  think  that  either  virtue  or  happiness 
has  kept  pace  with  this  increase  of  know- 
ledge, nor  has  there  ever  been  or  will  there 
ever  be  again  such  a  country  as  the  Old 
'  South,  nor  a  people  so  good,  so  brave,  or  so 
true-hearted  as  the  dear,  primitive  people  of 
that  good  old  time. 


TWO  BOB  WHITES 


WO  Bob  Whites  were  standing^ 
beneath  the  old  thorn-bush  at 
the  far  end  of  the  orchard;  in- 
deed, they  had  been  standing 
there  for  some  time,  with  their  heads  held 
close,  just  as  though  they  were  talking  to- 
gether. In  fact,  that  is  just  what  they  were 
doing.  They  were  talking  about  the  nest 
that  they  were  going  to  build.  And  it  was 
high  time,  for  already  there  was  a  nice  little 
brood  in  that  nest  beyond  the  brook.  But 
our  Bob  Whites  were  a  prudent  couple ; 
they  did  not  approve  of  those  early  broods 
which  came  off  barely  in  time  to  miss  the 
chilly  May  rains.  But  the  May  spell  was 
over  now,  the  sun  shone  hot  upon  the  wav- 
ing wheat,  and  over  the  fence,  there  in  the 
old  field,  the  dewberries  were  ripe.  Already 
the  little  boys  who  live  in  the  house  over 
yonder  had  been  after  the  berries,  regard- 
59 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


less  of  briers  and  bare  feet.  Yes,  it  was 
high  time  that  nest  was  built ;  but,  some- 
how, they  could  not  fix  upon  an  altogether 
suitable  location.  True,  the  old  thorn-bush, 
with  its  wide-spreading  branches,  was  most 
attractive ;  but  there  the  cart  tracks  ran 
^too  close  by.  As  they  stood  thus  in  the 
clover,  all  undecided,  they  were  startled  by 
a  loud  cry  from  Robin  Redbreast,  whose 
nest  was  high  up  in  that  apple  tree.  Turn- 
ing to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  outcry, 
they  espied  a  great,  evil-looking,  yellow  cat, 
creeping  through  the  long  grass.  This  de- 
cided them,  and  without  waiting  another 
moment,  they  abandoned  the  thorn-bush 
and  flew  away  to  seek  a  safer  abode.  This 
they  finally  found  over  toward  the  wheat 
field,  far  away  from  cats  and  all  the  nui- 
sances which  attend  the  abodes  of  men. 

The  nest  was  built  back  of  the  old  gray, 
lichen-covered  fence,  just  above  the  brook 
where  the  hazels  and  alders  grow.  All 
around  was  a  blackberry  thicket,  and  a 
great  tussock  of  brown  sedges  sheltered 
the  nest  Hke  a  roof.  Just  beyond  the  fence 
was  the  wheat  field.  No  one  ever  came 
60 


TWO  BOB  WHITES 


there,  excepting  that  now  and  then  on  a 
Saturday  the  Httle  boys  who  lived  over 
yonder  would  pass  by  with  their  fishing- 
poles,  jump  the  fence,  and  disappear  in  the 
hazel  thickets.  The  Bob  Whites  did  n't 
mind  the  boys,  unless  Nip  happened  to  be 
along,  nosing  about  in  search  of  some  mis- 
chief to  get  into.  But  as  yet  no  little  white 
egg  lay  in  the  nest,  and  when  Nip  cocked 
his  impudent  little  ears  at  them,  they  were 
off  with  a  whirr  that  sent  him,  scampering, 
startled  and  scared,  after  the  boys.  From 
the  trees  to  which  they  had  flown,  the  Bob 
Whites  watched  the  movements  of  the 
boys  with  some  anxiety.  "  They  might, 
you  know,"  whispered  Mrs.  Bob,  "  be  after 
that  brood  of  our  cousin's  beyond  the 
brook;  but  no,  they've  stopped  —  they  are 
throwing  something  into  the  water,  and 
there 's  that  good-for-nothing  Nip  with 
them,  so  we  may  go  back  to  the  nest." 
But  they  did  not  go,  for  there  was  that 
pert  Jennie  Wren  fluttering  about,  as  bold 
as  anything,  actually  peeping  into  the  bait 
gourd,  and,  goodness  gracious  !  she  has 
stolen  a  worm  and  flown  off  with  it ;  what 
6i 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


impudence  !  And  listen,  there 's  Cardinal 
Grosbeak  singing  to  them,  — 

"  Boys,  boys,  boys, 
Do,  do,  do 
Fish  a  little  deeper." 

There  he  is,  just  a  little  above  them,  upon 
the  hackberry;  now  he's  flown  to  that 
willow ;  he  looks  like  a  coal  of  fire,  there 
among  the  green  leaves.  Now  he  begins 
again  with  his — 

"  Boys,  boys,  boys, 
Do,  do,  do." 

"  The  song  may  do  well  enough,  but  we 
don't  approve  of  such  forward  ways," 
sighed  Mrs.  Bob.  "No,"  chimed  in  Mrs. 
Mate  Hare,  limping  from  her  home  in  the 
broom  sedge.  "  It 's  not  safe,  with  that 
horrid  little  Nip  so  near ;  to  be  sure,  they've 
got  wings,  but  as  for  me,  he  just  fright- 
ens the  life  out  of  me,  with  his  nosing  and 
sniffing ;  forever  nosing  and  sniffing  after 
some  mischief."  And  she  wiggled  her  nose 
and  ears  and  looked  so  funny  that  the  Bob 
Whites  almost  laughed  in  her  face. 

Before  long  there  was  a  little  white  egg 
62 


TWO  BOB  WHITES 


in  the  nest,  and  Bob  White  was  so  proud 
of  it  that  he  just  stood  upon  the  fences 
and  called,  "  Bob  White,  Bob  W^hite,  Bob 
White,"  all  day  long.  And  the  boys  who 
lived  over  yonder  at  the  farmhouse  said, 
"  Listen  to  the  Bob  White,  he 's  got  a  nest 
over  there  in  the  wheat."  "  Let  him  alone," 
said  the  farmer;  "there'll  be  good  shoot- 
ing over  there  by  and  by."  But  Bob  White 
had  no  thoughts  to  spare  for  by-and-bys. 
The  blue  June  sky  and  the  rustling  wheat, 
the  wild  roses,  and  that  little  egg  lying 
there  in  the  nest  were  enough  for  him.  So 
he  just  turned  his  round  breast  to  the  sun- 
shine, and  called  "  Bob  White"  louder  than 
ever. 

After  a  while,  when  the  nest  was  full  of 
eggs,  the  Bob  Whites  would  creep  through 
the  wheat  and  whisper  of  the  little  ones 
that  would  soon  be  coming.  "  They  '11  be 
here  by  the  time  the  wheat  is  ripe,"  says 
Bob.  "  It  '11  be  fine  feeding  for  them,"  re- 
plies Mrs.  Bob.  They  never  thought  of 
the  reapers  with  their  sharp  scythes,  and  of 
the  noise  and  tramping,  where  all  was  now 
so  peaceful. 

63 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

While  Mrs.  Bob  sat  upon  her  eggs,  it 
amused  her  to  see  the  Mate  Hares  come 
limping  out  at  sunset,  very  timidly  at  first, 
pausing,  startled,  at  every  sound.  Soon, 
however,  they  forgot  their  fears  and  began 
their  dances,  hopping  and  running  round 
and  round  like  mad,  and  cutting  such  ca- 
pers as  quite  scandalized  the  Bob  Whites. 

"  How  very  odd!"  said  Mrs.  Bob, as  she 
settled  herself  over  her  eggs.  "  I  have  heard 
that  the  March  Hares  have  a  Bee  in  their 
bonnets."  "  Same  family,"  Bob  White 
replied  drowsily.  Then  Mrs.  Bob,  pressing 
her  soft  feathers  gently  upon  her  eggs, 
tucked  her  head  under  her  wing  and  slept. 

Their  dance  over,  the  Mate  Hares  skipped 
down  to  the  meadow,  where  the  dew  lay 
thick  upon  the  clover.  "  How  good!"  they 
said,  as  they  nibbled  and  munched.  "  So 
sweet  and  tender,  with  the  dew  upon  it!" 
"  Who  would  eat  dry  seeds  like  the  Bob 
Whites?"  said  one.  "  And  go  to  sleep  at 
dusk!"  snickered  another.  "And  whistle  all 
day!"  said  a  third.  "  As  much  as  to  say  to 
all  men  and  dogs,  *  Here  I  am,  come  and 
shoot  me  ; '  so  silly!  Oh,  there 's  no  family 
64 


TWO  BOB  WHITES 


like  the  ]\Iate  Hares  for  sense;  come,  let's 
have  another  dance."  So  they  skipped  and 
hopped  and  munched  clover  until  the  dawn 
sent  them  scudding  away  to  their  homes. 

Well  at  last,  upon  a  sunny  June  morn- 
ing, the  lonely  field  was  no  longer  lonely, 
neither  was  it  quiet ;  for  the  grain  was  ripe 
and  the  reapers  had  come.  Yes,  the  reapers 
had  come,  and  with  them  came  Nip.  Yes, 
there  he  was,  showinc:  that  UQ-ly  little  red 
tongue  of  his,  and  poking  his  black  nose 
into  every  hole  and  bush  ;  no  place  was 
safe  from  those  inquisitive  eyes  and  sharp 
little  cruel  teeth.  i^Ir.  Bob  watched  him 
with  a  flutterino;  heart,  as  he  ran  sniffino; 
about;  suddenly,  there  came  a  sharp  yelp, 
and  then  Mrs.  ^late  Hare's  cotton  tail  went 
flying  over  rock  and  brier,  follon-ed  by  Xip, 
with  his  short,  inadequate  legs.  Soon,  how- 
ever, he  tired  of  this  fun,  and,  trotting  back, 
cocked  his  ears  at  the  brier  patch,  sniffed 
about  it,  and  crept  in.  Bob  White,  with  an 
anxious  call,  flew  into  a  tree. 

"  He  s  o-ot  a  nest  somewhere  about 
there,"  said  one  of  the  reapers.  "  I  bet  it 's 
full  of  eo; o-s,"  he  added.  "  Yes,  but  the  boss 

65 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

has  give  orders  that  they  ain't  to  be  tetched," 
said  another.  Then  there  came  from  the 
thicket  a  growl  and  a  yelp,  and  Mrs.  Bob, 
with  a  loud  whirr,  flew  to  her  mate.  "  Nip 's 
got  em!"  cried  one  of  the  men,  and,  pick- 
ing up  a  stone,  he  ran  to  the  thicket,  from 
whence  now  issued  yelps  of  anguish.  "He  '11 
not  trouble  them  again,  I  reckon,"  the  man 
said,  with  a  grin,  as  he  picked  up  his  scythe. 

Nip  trotted  home  with  a  crestfallen  and 
dejected  air,  but  the  Bob  Whites,  still  agi- 
tated, remained  in  the  tree,  with  necks 
craned  anxiously  toward  the  nest.  When, 
at  length,  Mrs.  Bob  found  courage  to  return, 
the  melancholy  sight  met  her  eyes  of  three 
broken  eggs,  some  more  scattered  ones,  and 
a  generally  disordered  nest.  Bob  now  came 
to  her  assistance,  the  scattered  eggs  were 
put  back,  the  nest  repaired,  and  Mrs.  Bob 
contentedly  seated  herself  upon  it. 

The  hatching  time  was  drawing  near, 
and  it  was  a  most  exciting  period.  Mrs. 
Bob  sat  very  still,  but,  as  for  Bob,  he  just 
fidgeted  from  nest  to  tree  and  back  again, 
stopping  around  and  asking  questions. 
Yes,  one  egg  is  pipped  ;  they  '11  all  be  out 
66 


TWO  BOB  WHITES 

by  to-morrow.  And  so  they  were,  —  thir- 
teen httle  puff-balls,  upon  tiny  coral  feet. 
*'  There  would  have  been  sixteen,  but  for 
that  horrid  Nip,"  sighed  Mrs.  Bob.  But  she 
was  very  proud  and  happy,  as  she  led  the 
little  brood  through  the  brush,  showed  them 
how  to  pick  up  ants'  eggs,  and  tore  up  the 
soft  mould  for  grubs  and  other  dainties. 
When  the  nimble  little  feet  grew  tired,  she 
took  them  to  the  alder  thicket,  where,  hid- 
den away  beneath  her  feathers,  they  piped 
themselves  to  rest.  It  was  very  quiet  now: 
the  reapers  had  gone ;  there  was  no  rustling 
of  waving  wheat,  only  the  shocks  stood  up 
silent;  there  was  only  the  soft  clang,  clang 
from  the  bell-cow,  as  the  herd  went  home. 
Then  the  sun  went  down,  and  grayness 
followed,  and  from  the  thicket  came  the 
sad  cry  of  the  Chuck  Will's  widow.  But 
the  Bob  Whites  were  fast  asleep.  At  dawn, 
Bob  White  stood  upon  the  topmost  rail, 
and  whistled  and  whisded  as  loud  as  he 
could;  he  felt  so  happy  that  he  had  to 
repeat,  "  Bob  White,  Bob  White"  to  every- 
thing that  he  saw,  —  to  the  bell-cow,  as 
she  passed  by  on  her  way  to  the  meadow ; 
67 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

then  to  the  boy,  who  popped  his  whip  and 
whistled  back;  then  to  the  trees,  which 
nodded  in  return.  When  the  sun  came 
gHnting  through  the  leaves  and  set  the  dew- 
drops  to  glistening  and  the  whole  world 
to  laughing,  he  whistled  louder  than  ever, 
just  for  joy.  But  presently  the  reapers 
came  again.  Then  Bob  White  slipped 
away  and  hid  himself  far  down  amid  the 
alders,  where  Mrs.  Bob  was  showing  the 
puff-balls  how  to  pick  up  grubs  and  how 
to  use  their  little  nimble  legs  in  running 
after  gnats  and  other  good  things.  "  Don't 
try  to  catch  that  great  bee,  but  come  and 
pick  up  these  ants'  eggs,"  she  called,  as  she 
threw  aside  the  earth  with  her  strong  claws. 
"  You  must  attend  to  what  I  say,  for  you 
are  very  ignorant  little  things,  and  if  you 
are  not  careful  to  mind  what  I  say  you  may 
be  caught  up  by  a  hawk  at  any  moment. 
So,  listen:  when  I  say  'Tuk,'  you  must  hide 
yourselves  immediately;  don't  try  to  run 
away,  but  just  get  under  a  rock,  or  even 
a  leaf,  or  just  flatten  yourselves  upon  the 
ground,  if  you  can't  do  better ;  you  are  so 
nearly  the  color  of  the  ground  that  a  boy 
68 


TWO  BOB  WHITES 


will  never  see  you,  and  you  can  even  escape 
a  hawk  s  keen  eye/' 

After  a  while,  mother  and  brood  left  the 
alder  thicket,  and,  as  the  reapers  were  nov; 
in  a  distant  part  of  the  field,  Mrs.  Bob  led 
them  all  to  a  sunny  spot  where  they  might 
pick  upon  the  fallen  grains  and  wallov;  in 
the  dry,  hot  sand.  It  was  very  nice  to  do 
this,  and  thev  were  havins;  a  charmins; 
time,  v;hen  suddenly  voices  were  heard, 
and  at  once  two  boys  were  upon  them. 
But  not  so  much  as  one  little  brown  head 
or  one  little  pink  toe  was  visible;  the  sign 
had  been  given,  and  now  only  a  poor, 
wounded  Bob  White  lay  in  the  path  before 
them.  She's  dead,"  said  one  of  the  boys. 
"  Xo,  she  ain't,  her  wing 's  broke,"  cried  the 
other,  as  he  made  a  dive  at  her.  But,  some- 
how, ^Ivs.  Bob  continued  to  flop  the  broken 
wing,  and  to  elude  them.  Another  futile 
dive,  and  the  two  tin  buckets  containing 
the  reapers'  dinners  were  thrown  down  and 
forgotten  in  the  keen  interest  of  chasing 
the  wounded  Bob  White,  who  managed  to 
flop  and  flutter  just  beyond  their  reach 
until  she  had  led  them  quite  across  the 
69 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

field,  —  then,  with  a  whirr,  she  bounded 
into  the  air  and  safely  perched  herself  upon 
a  distant  tree.  The  astonished  small  boys 
gazed  blankly  after  her,  wiped  their  hot 
faces  upon  their  sleeves,  and  turned,  reluc- 
tantly, to  pick  up  their  buckets.  As  they 
w^ent  along,  hot  and  crestfallen,  one  of  them 
suddenly  exclaimed:  "She's  got  young 
ones  hid  yonder,  I  bet,"  and  with  that  they 
set  off  at  a  run.  Mrs.  Bob  White,  who 
knew  boy-nature  well,  craned  her  neck  to 
watch,  and  fluttered  nearer.  Then  Bob 
White  came,  and  both  continued  to  watch 
with  anxiously  beating  hearts,  for  those 
little  boys  were  evidently  bent  upon  mis- 
chief. Would  the  poor  little  puff-balls  out- 
wit them  ?  One  little  piping  cry,  one  brown 
head  raised,  and  all  would  be  lost.  But,  as 
they  watched,  their  fears  began  to  subside. 
The  boys  are  again  wiping  their  hot  faces, 
they  look  discouraged,  they  have  evidently 
found  nothing ;  yes,  certainly  not,  for,  see, 
they  are  picking  up  their  buckets,  and  now 
they  are  going  across  the  field  to  where 
the  reapers  are  calling  them  to  hurry  along 
with  their  dinners. 

70 


TWO  BOB  WHITES 


Such  daily  annoyances  as  this  now  de- 
termined the  Bob  Whites  to  take  refuo-e  in 
the  alder  thicket,  in  whose  deep  seclusion 
they  soon  regained  tranquillity  of  spirits. 
The  dampness  of  the  situation,  however, 
proving  most  unfavorable  to  their  brood, 
they  anxiously  awaited  the  time  when  the 
departure  of  the  reapers  would  restore  quiet 
and  enable  them  to  return  to  their  haunts. 
At  length  the  wished-for  time  arrived  ;  from 
the  topmost  boughs  of  the  big  maple  Bob 
White  could  see  neither  man,  boy,  or  dog, 
in  the  whole  length  and  breadth  of  the 
field.  Summoning  the  family  together,  they 
joyfully  crept  through  the  brush  to  bask  in 
the  broad  stretches  of  sunshine  and  to  pick 
up  the  scattered  grain  amid  the  stubble. 
Here  they  remained  through  all  the  long 
summer  days,  their  solitude  broken  only  by 
the  yellow  butterflies  and  by  the  big  brown 
grasshoppers  bumping  about  in  the  stub- 
ble, the  silence  broken  only  by  the  occa- 
sional jangle  from  the  bell-cow,  as  she  shook 
the  deerfhes  from  her  sleek  sides. 

By  and  by,  when  the  goldenrod  was 
yellow  upon  the  hillside,  the  young  ones, 
71 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

in  their  new  brown  coats,  began  to  try  their 
wings,  and  felt  very  proud  if  they  could 
make  them  whirr,  when  they  rose  to  the 
fence  or  to  a  low  brush.  Had  they  been 
boys,  they  would  have  been  called  hobble- 
dehoys ;  but,  being  Bob  Whites,  they  were 
known  as  squealers,  and  as  such  they  felt 
very  mannish  and  ambitious  to  be  inde- 
pendent ;  but,  nevertheless,  they  still  liked 
to  huddle  together  at  nightfall  and  talk 
over  the  day's  doings,  close  to,  if  not  under, 
the  mother's  wing. 

By  and  by,  again,  when  goldenrod  stood 
brown  and  sere  upon  the  hillside  and  the 
sumach  glowed  red  in  the  fence  corners 
and  thickets,  when  the  fall  crickets  were 
chiming  their  dirge  down  amid  the  grass 
roots  and  the  air  was  growing  frosty  at 
nights,  then  the  Bob  Whites  grew  restless 
and  took  flight  for  a  far-off  pea  field,  noted 
as  a  feeding-ground.  Here  they  met  other 
families  of  kinsfolks,  and  then  began  a  right 
royal  time,  running  nimbly  through  the 
rich  pea  vines  or  scratching  in  sassafras  or 
sumach  thickets  for  insects,  growing  fat  and 
growing  lazy  all  the  time.  The  gourmand 
72 


TWO  BOB  VvHITES 


of  the  autumn  was  in  manner  quite  a  con- 
trast to  the  Bob  Whites  of  the  days  of 
young  wheat  and  wild  roses.  No  bhthe, 
good  music  now  issued  from  that  throat, 
so  intent  upon  good  cheer.  True,  some 
unpleasant  rumors  are  afloat.  The  Mate 
Hares,  scudding  frantically  away,  reported 
an  advance  of  men,  with  guns  and  dogs ; 
but  the  Mate  Hares  were  always  silly  and 
unreliable.  So  our  Bob  Whites  just  keep 
on  eating  and  making  merry.  Fortune  may 
favor  them, — who  knows?  Let  us  hope, 
and  listen  out  next  year  for  the  cheery 
"Bob  White,  Bob  White,''  from  the  old 
nesting-place. 


LITTLE  DAVE 


HE  cool  fogginess  of  an  Au- 
gust morning  has  melted  under 
the  fierce  sun.  The  level  fields, 
like  a  waveless  ocean,  stretch 
away  into  the  dim,  green  distance.  The 
hot  air  quivers  above  cotton-fields,  heavy 
with  bolls  and  gay  with  blossoms,  which 
give  out  a  half-sickening  fragrance.  A 
languid  air  rustles  low  amid  the  corn,  from 
whose  dense  growth  arises  a  damp,  hot 
breath.  Out  in  the  pasture,  work-horses 
leisurely  crop  the  sunburnt  grass,  or  stand 
under  the  trees,  lazily  switching  away  the 
swarming  gnats. 

A  restful  quiet  broods  over  the  big  plan- 
tation, for  the  plow  and  the  hoe  have  fin- 
ished their  task  ;  sun  and  showers  must 
do  the  rest.  The  crop  is  "  laid  by,"  and 
the  summer  holidays  have  begun.  Three 
days  of  rest  before  the  gathering  in  begins. 
Over  at  the  quarter,  the  young  people 
74 


LITTLE  DAVE 


fill  the  long,  lazy  day  with  patting  and  dan- 
cing, banjo-playing  and  watermelon-eating. 
The  elders,  for  the  most  part,  are  absorbed 
in  preparations  for  the  big  holiday  dinner. 
By  dawn,  holes  have  been  dug  in  the  ground 
and  heated  for  the  barbecuing  of  various 
meats,  and  those  who  hold  the  honorable 
posts  of  cooks  are  busily  engaged  in  bast- 
ing, tasting,  and  sending  the  small  urchins 
after  fuel.  Some  of  the  women  are  knead- 
ing fiour  hoe-cakes;  others,  gathered  about 
a  table  under  a  great  mulberry  tree,  are 
peeling  fruit  for  pies,  while  now  and  then 
they  raise  their  voices  with  blood-curdling 
threats  to  hasten  the  lagging  steps  of  a  little 
gang,  which,  looking  like  a  string  of  black 
beetles,  troop  slowly  along  from  the  orchard, 
each  holding  in  the  skirt  of  his  solitary  gar- 
ment the  sm.all  store  of  fruit  which  he  has 
not  been  able  to  eat.  A  row  of  tables  spread 
in  the  shade  stands  ready  for  the  feast,  and, 
along  the  pathway,  the  guests  from  neigh- 
boring plantations  are  already  approach- 
ing. 

Up  at  the  great  house  an  unnatural  quiet 
prevails,  for  upon  this  day  all  work  is  laid 
75 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


aside  and  all  are  off  to  the  barbecue ;  even 
old  Aunt  Sylvie  has  forgotten  the  "  misery" 
in  her  back,  has  donned  her  Sunday  gar- 
ments, and  stepped  briskly  off  to  the  quar- 
ter; cook,  too,  has  closed  the  ever-open 
kitchen  door  and  departed,  along  with 
nurse,  over  whose  toilet  her  little  charges 
have  presided  with  so  much  zeal  that  they 
have  emptied  their  mother's  cologne  flask 
in  order  to  bedew  their  mammy's  pocket- 
handkerchief  to  their  satisfaction. 

Tiny  curly-headed  Jack  feels  rather  dis- 
consolate without  his  mammy,  but  is  par- 
tially consoled  by  flattering  visions  of  what 
her  pockets  will  bring  home  at  the  end  of 
the  day.^ 

Away  down  upon  the  creek  the  little 
gristmill  stands  silent;  the  old  mossy 
wheel  has  for  to-day  ceased  its  splash  and 
clatter,  and,  like  all  else  upon  the  planta- 
tion, is  resting  from  its  labor;  to-day  no 
sacks  stand  open-mouthed,  awaiting  their 
turn ;  no  little  creaking  carts,  no  mill  boys 

1  Little  Jack  is  now  a  grave  and  reverend  bishop,  but  I 
doubt  if  he  has  altogether  forgotten  the  deliciousness  of  the 
flabby  pie,  eaten  with  such  content  at  the  close  of  that  day. 

76 


LITTLE  DAVE 


mounted  astride  their  grists  are  seen  upon 
the  path,  and  W at,  the  miller,  in  the  lazy 
content  of  dirt  and  idleness,  lies  basking  in 
the  sun.  Within  the  wattle  fence  on  the 
other  side  of  the  path,  his  three  children, 
little  Dave,  Emma  Jane,  and  a  fat  baby,  are 
sprawling  upon  the  ground,  along  with  the 
house  pig,  two  puppies,  and  the  chickens. 
Little  Dave,  who  is  perhaps  somewhat 
dwarfed  by  toting  first  Emma  Jane  in  her 
infancy,  and  now  the  fat  baby,  looks  not 
unlike  a  careworn  little  ape,  as  he  sits  flat 
upon  the  ground,  spreading  his  bony  toes 
for  the  baby  to  claw  at. 

Emma  Jane,  with  her  stout  little  body 
buttoned  into  a  homespun  frock,  is  also 
seated  in  the  sand,  solemnly  munching 
upon  a  hunk  of  corn  bread,  while  the 
chickens,  with  easy  familiarity,  peck  at  the 
crumbs  which  fall  upon  her  black  shins. 
Within  the  cabin,  Polly,  the  miller's  wife, 
has  tied  a  string  of  beads  about  her  sleek 
black  throat,  and  now,  in  all  the  bravery 
of  her  flowered  calico,  is  ready  to  set  off 
for  the  quarter;  first,  though,  she  pauses 
at  the  gate  to  speak  to  little  Dave. 
77 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

"When  de  chile  git  hongry,  you  git  dat 
sweeten  water  off  de  shelf  and  gie  it  to  him 
long  wid  his  bread ;  "  then  adds,  with  a  sus- 
picion of  tenderness  upon  her  comely  face; 
"  I  gwine  fetch  you  some  pie."  Then,  call- 
ing to  Wat,  that  he  had  better  "  fix  his  sef 
and  come  along,  ef  he  speck  to  git  any  of  de 
dinner,"  she  steps  briskly  along  the  narrow 
pathway,  mounts  the  zigzag  fence,  and  dis- 
appears amid  the  high  corn. 

Some  miles  below,  where  the  little  creek 
which  turns  the  mill-wheel  steals  from  out 
the  swamp  to  join  the  river,  a  clumsy, 
flat-bottomed  scow  lies  grounded  upon  a 
sand-bar.  This  is  no  evil  to  Boat  Jim,  who, 
sprawled  upon  the  deck,  snores  away  the 
hours,  regardless  of  the  blistering  sun  beat- 
ing down  upon  his  uncovered  head,  and  all 
unconscious  of  the  departure  of  his  chance 
passenger,  an  itinerant  organ-grinder.  This 
fellow,  having  had  the  ill  luck  to  lose  the  re- 
spectable member  of  the  firm,  his  monkey, 
and  finding  difficulty  without  the  aid  of  his 
little  partner  to  attract  an  audience,  had, 
while  idling  about  the  docks,  encountered 
Boat  Jim,  and  persuaded  the  latter  to  give 
78 


LITTLE  DAVE 


him  a  lift  up  the  river,  the  condition  being 
that  he  was  to  grind  as  much  music  as  Jim 
should  desire.  But,  disgusted  with  three 
days  of  slow  progress  upon  the  boat,  he  had, 
after  viciously  kicking  the  unconscious  Jim, 
stolen  the  small  boat  and  put  himself  ashore. 
Following  the  windings  of  the  creek,  he 
came  to  the  little  mill,  where,  attracted  by 
the  shade,  he  seated  himself  close  to  the 
wattle  fence  of  Polly's  little  yard.  Hearing 
voices,  he  peeped  through  the  fence,  and  his 
eyes  were  soon  fixed  upon  little  Dave,  who, 
with  the  fat  baby  and  Emma  Jane  for  spec- 
tators, is  perforniing  various  tricks  with  infi- 
nite delight  to  himself.  He  stands  upon  his 
head,  he  turns  somersaults,  he  dances,  he 
pats,  and  finally  he  swings  himself  into  a 
tree,  where  he  skips  about  with  the  agility 
of  a  monkey.  A  thought  comes  into  the 
organ-grinder's  head ;  he  glances  at  the  si- 
lent mill  and  at  the  cabin :  evidently  both 
are  deserted;  here  is  a  chance  to  replace 
the  dead  monkey. 

The  sun  is  sending  long  shafts  of  crim- 
son light  into  the  swamp  and  glinting  upon 
the  millhouse;  the  high  corn,  awakening 
79 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

from  its  midday  torpor,  rustles  softly  to  the 
evening  breeze,  as  Wat  and  Polly  wend  their 
way  homeward.  A  bucket,  lightly  poised 
upon  Polly's  head,  holds  scraps  of  barbe- 
cue and  little  Dave's  promised  pie,  and,  as 
she  draws  near  the  wattle  fence,  she  thinks, 
with  a  pleased  smile,  of  how  she  will  set  it  be- 
fore "  de  chilluns,"  when  a  prolonged  howl 
falls  upon  her  ears.  Recognizing  the  voice 
of  Emma  Jane,  she  says  to  herself :  "  She 
hongry,  I  spek,"  and  trudges  on,  in  nowise 
disturbed  by  this  familiar  sound.  But,  when 
they  enter  the  yard,  there  is  only  Emma 
Jane,  bawling,  open-mouthed,  beside  the 
baby,  who,  with  the  house  pig,  lies  asleep  on 
the  warm  sand.  The  chickens  are  daintily 
picking  their  way  to  the  house,  the  old  mus- 
covy  duck  has  tucked  her  head  under  her 
wing  for  the  night.  Old  Keep,  the  stump- 
tailed  coon  dog,  crawls  from  under  the 
cabin  to  greet  them.  But  where  is  Dave  ? 

The  miller  carries  the  sleeping  child  in- 
doors, followed  by  the  still  bawling  Emma 
Jane,  while  the  wrathful  Polly  goes  to  the 
back  of  the  house.  Stripping  the  twigs 
from  a  switch,  she  mutters :  "  I  knows  what 
80 


LITTLE  DAVE 

you's  arter;  you  tuck  yoursef  to  dat  water- 
million  patch,  dat  whar  you  gone ;  but  ne' 
mine,  boy,  you  jest  le'  me  git  hold  o'  you." 
Then,  after  a  time  given  to  unsuccessful 
search,  calls  of"  Da-a-vie  —  oh,  oh,  Dave  !  " 
fall  upon  the  stillness,  to  be  answered  only 
by  weird  echo  from  the  lonely  swamp. 
Returning  from  her  search,  she  finds  Wat 
seated  upon  the  doorstep. 

"  Dave  done  took  hissel  off  to  de  quar- 
ter," he  says  ;  "  but  no  mind,  I  gwine  fill 
him  full  o'  licks  in  de  mornin'." 

But,  when  morning  comes  and  brings  no 
little  Dave,  wTath  gives  place  to  fear.  The 
plantation  is  aroused ;  finally  the  mill-pond 
is  dragged,  and,  although  the  body  is  not 
found,  the  conclusion  is  that  the  boy  has 
been  drowned. 

After  a  time  Polly's  smile  beams  as 
broadly  as  ever,  but  her  heart  still  yearns 
for  her  boy,  and  amid  the  sleepy  drone  of 
her  spinning-wheel,  she  pauses  to  listen  ; 
or,  standing  in  her  door,  she  looks  ever 
wistfully  along  the  crooked  path.  Across 
the  way,  the  little  mill  clatters  on  as  mer- 
rily as  of  yore  ;  Wat  heaves  the  great  sacks 
8i 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

upon  his  brawny  shoulder,  metes  out  the 
grist,  and  faithfully  feeds  the  hopper ;  but, 
when  a  chance  shadow  falls  athwart  the 
sunny  doorway,  he  looks  up  with  a  gleam 
of  hope  upon  his  stupid,  honest  face,  then 
brushes  his  hand  across  his  eyes,  and  goes 
on  in  stolid  patience  with  his  work.  So 
the  summer  and  the  autumn  pass,  without 
change,  save  that  Emma  Jane  substitutes 
sweet  potatoes  for  corn  bread,  and  the  fat 
baby  has  learned  to  balance  himself  upon 
his  bowlegs. 

Upon  a  winter  evening  Wat  enters  the 
cabin  at  the  usual  hour.  Polly  has  laid  a 
bit  of  clean  homespun  upon  the  table ;  his 
bowl  of  coffee,  his  fried  meat,  and  his  hoe- 
cake  stand  ready ;  but,  instead  of  falling  to, 
as  his  custom  is,  he  sits  silent  and  despond- 
ent, with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  until 
Polly  asks :  — 

"  What  de  matter;  is  you  po'ly  ?  " 

"  I  dunno  as  I  'se,  to  say,  po'ly,"  Wat  re- 
plies, "  but  dat  boy 's  been  a-pesterin'  me 
dis  livelong  day,  a-callin'  '  Daddy,  Daddy  ! ' 
jes'  like  I  talkin'  now,  till  seem  like  I  'se 
most  beat  out  along  o'  him." 

82 


LITTLE  DAVE 


"  Dat  mighty  curous,"  Polly  answered, 
"  'cause  Ole  Keep,  he 's  been  a-howlin'  dis 
blessed  day.  I  lowed  dat  Ung  Silas  were 
gwine  be  tuck." 

"  'T  ain't  dat,"  the  miller  interrupted. 
"  Ung  Silas,  he  done  got  better ;  he  howlin' 
arter  sompen  nother,  but 't  ain't  arter  Ung 
Silas." 

Upon  that  identical  winter's  day,  in  a 
back  alley  of  New  York,  a  small  crowd  of 
idlers  had  gathered  to  witness  the  perform- 
ance of  the  "  Man  Monkey."  A  little  crea- 
ture, dressed  in  tinsel,  leaped  and  capered, 
keeping  time  to  the  grinding  of  an  organ. 
When  the  spectators  were  silent,  he  would 
glance  timidly  at  his  ill-favored  keeper,  but 
when  they  cheered,  the  poor  little  figure 
would  strive  to  outdo  itself,  in  spite  of  la- 
boring breath  and  trembling  limbs.  Then 
a  rope  was  stretched,  and  "  The  ]\Lan 
Monkey,"  seizing  an  end,  swung  himself 
up,  and,  amid  the  acclamations  of  the  ad- 
miring mob,  began  a  new  act  of  his  per- 
formance. The  day  was  cold,  and  at  that 
dizzy  height  the  wind  struck  bitterly 
through  the  starved  little  overtaxed  body ; 
83 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

he  lost  his  footing,  caught  wildly  at  the 
rope,  missed  it,  and  —  fell. 

In  that  brief  second  did  he  see  the  old 
mill  and  the  little  cabin  standing  in  the 
sunshine  ?  Did  he  hear  his  mother's  voice  ? 
God  knows.  When  a  pitying  hand  gently 
turned  the  little  heap  of  quivering  human- 
ity, a  happy  smile  lit  up  the  pinched  face, 
and  the  dying  lips  murmured,  "  Daddy." 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


I 

iE  cold  gray  light  of  early  dawn 
had  given  place  to  saffron,  and 
the  first  drowsy  challenge  from 
the  henroost  had  been  shrilly 
answered  from  far  and  near,  when  old  man 
Jerry  awoke  from  his  nap  in  the  chimney 
corner,  and,  finding  himself  chilled  through 
all  his  old,  rheumatic  bones,  bent  over  the 
dying  embers,  pushed  together  the  black- 
ened and  half-burned  "  chunks,"  and  blew 
them  until  they  glowed.  Then,  hitching  his 
stool  close  into  the  ashes,  he  spread  his 
horny  palms  to  the  blaze,  and  basked  in 
its  genial  warmth  as  it  crackled  up  the  wide 
chimney.  Reaching  his  pipe  from  its  nook, 
he  filled  it,  dipped  it  skillfully  in  the  coals 
so  as  to  ignite  without  wasting  the  pre- 
cious weed,  and  drew  a  long  whiff  by  way 
of  a  start;  then,  bending  still  closer  to  the 
blaze,  he  pulled  away,  now  and  then  rub- 
85 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

bing  his  shins  in  slow  content,  as  though 
to  emphasize  his  comfort. 

All  things,  though,  must  come  to  an  end. 
The  "  chunks  "  became  a  heap  of  white 
ashes,  the  pipe  was  finished,  and  broad 
shafts  of  light  stealing  down  the  chimney 
and  under  the  door  told  "  Ung  Jerry  "  that 
it  was  time  to  be  stirring. 

He  had,  according  to  his  usual  custom, 
risen  from  his  bed  long  before  cockcrow, 
and,  having  cooked  and  eaten  his  "  morn- 
ing bread,"  had  unlatched  his  door  in  order 
to  throw  a  morsel  to  his  old  hog-hound, 
"  Drive,"  who  had  already  crept  from  under 
the  house,  and  stood  wagging  his  stump 
of  a  tail  in  eager  expectancy.  The  morsel 
being  thrown,  the  old  man  had  cast  a  know- 
ing look  towards  the  heavens,  and,  judg- 
ing by  the  seven  stars  that  it  yet  lacked  an 
hour  to  dawn,  had  returned  to  the  smoky 
warmth  and  comfort  of  his  hovel,  where, 
seated  in  the  chimney  nook,  he  had  nodded 
till  roused  by  the  crowings  from  all  the 
neighboring  henroosts  — for  his  cabin  was 
one  of  many. 

The  pipe  being  smoked,  Ung  Jerry 
86 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


rose  stiffly,  and,  shuffling  to  his  bed,  fumbled 
underneath  it,  and,  taking  care  not  to  dis- 
turb the  setting  hen,  brought  out  two  bits 
of  old  blanket,  with  which  he  proceeded  to 
wrap  his  feet  before  putting  on  his  shoes/ 

The  hog-horn  was  now  slung  over  the 
old  coat,  a  bucket  of  cold  victuals  was 
reached  from  the  shelf,  and  the  old  hog- 
feeder,  equipped  for  his  day's  work,  lifted 
the  latch,  and,  stepping  out  into  the  sharp 
frostincss  of  the  November  morning, 
plodded  with  heavy  steps  toward  the  barn- 
yard. Drive  following  closely  at  his  heels. 

The  frosty  fields  were  glittering  in  the 
slant  rays  of  the  newly  risen  sun,  and  sounds 
of  busy  life  carne  floating  through  the  crisp 
air,  telling  the  old  man  that  the  day's  labor 

1  As  this  is  a  true  tale  of  an  old-time  plantation 
negro,  I  think  it  but  fair  to  state  that  he  had  a  chist " 
full  of  good  clothes ;  but,  with  a  parsimony  not  un- 
common among  his  race,  he  preferred  to  protect  his 
feet  with  old  bits  of  blanket,  instead  of  using  the 
excellent  home-knit  woollen  socks  which  lay  snugly 
hidden  away  in  his  "chist ;  "  and  it  was  the  same  feel- 
ing which  caused  him  to  wrap  himself  now  into  an 
old  garment  made  up  of  patches,  although  three  good 
ones  lay  snugly  folded  away  in  the  same  chest. 

87 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


had  begun.  The  sharp  crack  of  the  team- 
ster's whip  told  that  the  great  ox  wag- 
ons were  already  afield.  The  plow-boys 
whistled  as  they  led  out  their  mules  ;  men 
and  short-skirted,  heavily  shod  women  went 
trooping  to  the  cotton  fields;  the  milk- 
women  stepped  briskly  by,  with  the  foam- 
ing pails  balanced  upon  their  well-poised 
heads.  Then  came  the  cowboys,  with  noisy 
whoop,  driving  before  them  the  crowding, 
clumsy,  sweet-breathed  herd,  while,  fear- 
lessly amid  all,  pigeons  fluttered,  greedily 
picking  up  the  refuse  grain,  heedless  of  the 
hoofs  among  which  they  pecked  and  flut- 
tered. 

One  small,  grizzled  mule,  of  great  age 
and  much  cunning,  had  contrived  to  slip 
into  the  feedroom,  and  was  there  enjoying 
a  stolen  bait  of  oats  when  Ung  Jerry 
found  her. 

"  You  'speck  I  wan't  gwine  fine  you,  I 
reckon,  but  you 'se  wrong  dis  time,"  he 
said,  taking  her  by  one  of  the  long  ears  and 
leading  her  off  to  the  barnyard,  where  the 
little  cart  awaited  her. 

Drive,  meanwhile,  had  crept  under  the 
88 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


barn,  where,  nosing  about,  he  had  come  upon 
a  hen's  nest,  and  was  feasting  upon  the  warm, 
fresh  eggs. 

The  hitching-up  was  done  with  great 
dehberation.  Ung  Jerry  plodded  to  and 
from  the  harness-room  many  times,  bring- 
ing out  first  a  chuck  collar,  then  a  bit  of 
leather,  finally,  after  a  long  search,  an  end 
of  rope.  At  length,  when  all  seemed  to  be 
adjusted,  the  old  man  again  retired  to  the 
harness-room,  where  he  remained  so  long 
that  Drive  was  contemplating  another  raid 
upon  the  hens,  when  he  reappeared,  bring- 
ing with  him  an  old  piece  of  bagging,  with 
which  he  proceeded  with  careful  adjustment 
to  protect  the  old  mule's  back  from  the 
friction  of  the  cart-saddle.  She,  meanwhile, 
had  stood  with  closed  eyes  and  flopped  ears, 
immovable  save  for  an  occasional  twitch- 
ing of  her  small,  rat-like  tail ;  but  when 
the  loading  began,  her  manner  changed 
from  its  quiescent  indifference ;  watchful 
glances  followed  each  basketful  that  was 
dumped  in,  and  an  ominous  backing  of  the 
ears  gave  warning  of  what  would  happen 
should  the  load  be  heavier  than  she  liked. 
89 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


At  length,  all  being  ready  for  the  start, 
Ung  Jerry  climbed  slowly  to  his  perch 
on  the  cart's  edge,  gave  a  jerk  to  the  rope 
bridle,  and  Rachel  moved  off,  closely  fol- 
lowed by  Drive,  who,  conscious  of  egg- 
sucking  and  fearful  of  its  consequences,  had 
prudently  ensconced  himself  beneath  the 
cart,  from  whence  he  eyed,  suspiciously,  all 
passers-by. 

Slowly  the  little  cart  crept  along  the 
narrow  plantation  lanes,  crept  past  the  level 
cornfields  and  into  the  wide  pasture,  where 
sunburnt  mares  were  grazing  with  their 
wild-eyed,  unkempt  colts ;  crept  past  the 
marsh,  where  the  heron,  disturbed  in  her 
solitary  vigil,  rose  upon  silent  wing  and 
sought  some  more  secluded  haunt  amid 
the  dim  recesses  of  the  swamp. 

Turning  at  length  into  the  forest,  where 
the  gray  moss  hanging  from  the  trees  al- 
most obscured  the  deep  blue  autumnal 
sky,  the  cart  slowly  creaked  through  the 
rustling  leaves  until  it  came  upon  a  cross 
fence  which  barred  the  way.  Here,  as 
Rachel  came  to  a  full  stop,  Ung  Jerry  awoke 
from  his  nap,  descended  from  his  perch, 
90 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


and,  unslinging  his  horn,  blew  one  long 
blast. 

One  was  enough.  In  a  moment  the  deep 
stillness  of  the  forest  was  broken  by  the 
pattering  of  many  little  feet ;  from  the 
thickets  the  hogs  came  ;  each  hurrying  with 
might  and  main  to  be  foremost,  they  rushed, 
grunting,  squealing,  crowding  to  the  fence, 
where,  standing  with  upturned  faces  and 
small  covetous  eyes,  they  awaited  the  feast  of 
golden  grain  which  the  old  man  hastened  to 
scatter  amongst  them.  Then,  leaning  upon 
the  fence,  he  noted  each  greedy  grunter  as 
he  wriggled  his  small  tail  in  keenest  enjoy- 
ment and  cracked  the  sweet  corn. 

No  need  was  there  to  count;  to  the  hog- 
feeder  each  animal  possessed  an  individu- 
ality so  marked  that  in  all  the  drove  the 
absence  of  tlie  most  insignificant  was  at 
once  detected.  So  now,  as  he  leaned  upon 
the  fence,  he  cast  anxious  glances  into  the 
dimness  beyond.  Evidently  some  were 
missing. 

Drive,  too,  divining  his  master's  thoughts, 
stood  with  look  intent  and  anxious  yelp, 
impatient  for  the  search  to  begin. 

91 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


Then  the  word  came,  "  Seek,  boy  I " 
Scrambling  through  the  fence,  he  dashed 
into  every  covert  or  tangle  wherein  a  hog 
might  lurk,  but  without  result ;  there  came 
no  rush  of  feet,  no  shaking  of  the  brown 
leaves,  no  startled  grunt.  All  was  still, 
save  for  the  quick  panting  of  the  old 
hound. 

The  old  man  then  turned  his  eyes  again 
upon  the  greedy  mob,  still  hoping  to  dis- 
cover the  missing  ones  amongst  them. 
'T  was  all  in  vain. 

*'  De  listed  sow,  she  done  gone,  an'  de 
big  white  hogue,  he  done  gone,  an'  seben 
head  o'  shotes !  "  he  at  length  murmured, 
still,  however,  casting  expectant  glances 
toward  the  thickets,  in  which  Drive  was 
still  sniffing  with  uneasy  yelpings. 

"Seem  like  dem  creturs  is  clean  gone, 
sho'  nuf,"  he  exclaimed,  with  an  air  of  un- 
willing conviction  ;  then  adding,  "  well,  ef 
dey's  gone,  I  'se  got  'em  to  fine,  dat's  de 
trufe." 

He  called  in  the  dog,  and,  taking  his 
dinner  bucket,  climbed  the  fence  and  struck 
off  into  the  woods.   Now  and  again  he 
92 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


would  pause,  put  his  horn  to  his  lips,  and 
give  a  long  blast,  then  stand  listening  with 
anxious  expectancy.  Every  thicket  was 
searched.  It  was  a  weary  tramp,  —  through 
bogs  and  sloshes,  where  the  cypress  knees 
stood  up  like  sugar-loaves  in  the  shallow 
water,  or  sometimes  his  steps  were  bent 
to  some  open  glade,  where  the  great  oaks 
dropped  sweet  mast  among  the  brown 
leaves. 

The  day  was  no  longer  young  when  a 
low  fence  C3.me  into  view ;  beyond  it 
stretched  a  levee,  and  at  its  base  a  glint  of 
water  showed  itself  through  the  great  trees, 
which  stretched  their  mighty  arms  as 
though  they  would  embrace  it. 

Ung  Jerry,  after  climbing  the  fence, 
mounted  the  levee  and  stood  upon  the  brink 
of  a  wide  and  muddy  river.  Taking  off  his 
hat,  the  old  man  wiped  the  sweat  from  his 
face,  then  turned  an  observant  eye  upon 
the  river,  whose  muddy  waters  were  already 
lapping  the  boughs  of  the  overhanging 
trees,  and  with  a  long-drawn  breath  ex- 
claimed, "  Bank  an'  bank  !  " 

Then,  as  his  experienced  eye  noted  the 
93 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


angry  swirls  near  the  shore  and  the  debris 
borne  rapidly  upon  the  turbid  current, "  An' 
still  on  de  rise.  She  gwine  be  out  in  de 
low  groun's  befo'  mornin',  bless  de  Lord; 
I 's  been  'spectin'  she  gwine  play  dis  trick 
eber  since  de  win'  set  like  et  did." 

Then,  looking  at  the  field  of  standing 
corn  upon  the  further  shore,  protected  by 
a  low  levee,  and  seeming  to  be  upon  a  lower 
level  than  the  red  waters  of  the  flood,  he 
soliloquized :  — 

"  I 's  skeared  de  fresh  gwine  'stroy  a 
sight  o'  Mars  Jones's  corn.  It  raly  do  'pear 
like  dat  corn  mout  a  been  housed  befo' 
now." 

The  old  man's  thoughts  were  interrupted 
at  this  point  by  loud  and  animated  bark- 
ings from  Drive,  and,  hurrying  to  the  spot 
whence  they  proceeded,  he  discovered  the 
old  hound  standing  in  a  broken  gap  in  the 
fence,  in  a  state  of  excitement  over  the  nu- 
merous footprints  which  told  that  the  tru- 
ants had  broken  through  and  made  for  the 
river,  evidently  with  designs  upon  "  Mars 
Jones's  "  cornfield. 

"  Here 's  wha'  dey  tuck  de  watah,"  the 
94 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


old  man  remarked  to  the  dog,  as  together 
they  followed  the  footprints  to  the  water's 
edge.  "  Dat  'ere  listed  sow,  she  got  mo' 
sense  un  folks  \  She  know  'bout  Mars 
Jones's  corn,  an'  dey  ain't  no  fence  gwine 
stop  dat  cretur  when  she  take  a  notion  for 
to  go. 

"  Well,  well,  well,  de  listed  sow,  an'  de 
big  white  hogue,  an'  seben  head  o'  shotes 
done  tore  down  de  fence,  an'  took  deyselves 
'cross  de  riber  for  to  steal  Mars  Jones's 
corn ;  I  'clare 't  is  a  disgrace.  I  reckon  Mars 
Jones  gwine  cuss  a  plenty  when  he  fine  it 
out.  It  certinly  is  a  pity  for  master's  cre- 
turs  to  do  sich  a  low-life  trick  as  dat.  But 
bless  de  Lord,"  and  a  look  of  crafty  triumph 
came  into  his  face,  "  dey 's  got  dey  bellies 
full,  anyhow." 

With  this  pleasing  reflection,  and  the 
conviction  that  nothing  more  could  be  done 
for  the  present,  the  old  man  seated  him- 
self upon  a  log,  opened  his  bucket,  took 
out  his  jack-knife,  and  proceeded  to  eat  his 
dinner,  while  Drive  sat  by,  in  eager  readi- 
ness to  snatch  the  morsels  flung  to  him, 
ere  they  could  reach  the  ground. 

95 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

When  the  meal  was  finished,  dog  and 
man  each  took  comfort  in  his  own  way. 
The  dog  stretched  himself  in  the  sun- 
shine. The  old  man  sat  with  bent  head 
"a-studyin',  "  then  nodded,  then  fell  into 
a  deep  sleep,  soothed  by  the  silence,  which 
reigned  unbroken  save  for  the  distant  caw- 
ing of  a  crow. 

The  long  gray  moss  swayed  dreamily 
upon  the  motionless  boughs  of  the  giant 
trees.  Where  the  sycamore  lifted  its 
gaunt,  white  arms,  the  great  bald  eagle  sat 
immovable,  watching  with  fierce,  intent 
gaze  for  its  prey  in  the  waters  below. 

II 

The  shadows  were  growing  long  upon 
wood  and  river  when  the  light  dip  of  a 
paddle  broke  upon  the  stillness,  and  old 
Jerry,  rousing  from  his  nap,  spied  a  canoe 
gliding  down  stream,  guided  by  two  youths 
who,  with  their  guns  lying  crosswise  upon 
their  knees,  were  making  for  the  bank. 

"Mars  Harry  an  Mars  Phil,"  he  mur- 
mured, eying  them  with  lazy  curiosity,  as 
they  brought  their  little  craft  to  land,  and 
96 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


after  making  it  fast,  picked  up  their  guns, 
crossed  the  levee,  arid  struck  off  into  the 
swamp. 

"  Dey 's  after  turkey,  I  'speck ;  Mars 
Harry  an'  me,  we 's  killed  many  a  varmint 
in  dese  here  woods.  Dey  want  no  Mars 
Phil  'bout  here  in  dem  days  befo'  ole  Mars 
were  tuck  down." 

Thus  soliloquizing,  the  old  man  con- 
tinued to  gaze  wistfully  after  the  retreating 
figures  ;  for  their  appearance  had  seemed 
to  bring  a  disturbing  element  into  his  peace- 
ful dreams,  and  a  look  of  helpless  trouble 
overspread  his  face  as,  taking  off  his  hat 
and  slowly  scratching  his  head,  he  mur- 
mured :  — 

"  Seem  like  it  mos'  a  pity  Mars  Phil 
trouble  hisself  for  to  come  here,  anyhow. 
Well,  well,  well!  we  folks  all  gwine  be 
'vided  up  'twix  Mars  Harry  an'  Mars  Phil, 
'cause  ole  Mars,  he  not  long  for  dis  world ! 
Bless  de  Lord,  whinsoever  it  please  Him 
for  to  teck  ole  Mars  to  hisself,  I  trus'  he 
gwine  'vide  off  Jerry  to  Mars  Harry's  shere, 
'cause  I  nachally  ain't  got  no  use  for  t'other 
one  —  he  too  outlondesh." 

97 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


So  saying,  he  rose  and  reached  his  bucket 
from  the  bough  where  it  hung.  Drive,  who 
had  for  some  moments  been  watching  him 
out  of  the  corner  of  one  red  eye,  rose  also, 
and  the  two  set  out  upon  their  tramp  back 
to  the  cart. 

The  old  man  had  climbed  the  fence,  the 
dog  had  scrambled  through,  and  both  were 
threading  their  way  across  the  swamp, 
when  the  report  of  a  gun  close  by  caused 
the  dog  to  beat  a  retreat  from  the  thicket 
into  which  he  had  thrust  his  nose,  and,  with 
tail  tucked  in,  to  creep  to  his  master's  side ; 
while  the  old  man,  exclaiming,  "  Good  Gor- 
a-mighty !  whot  dat  ?  "  pushed  aside  the 
bushes  in  order  to  see  what  game  the  boys 
had  brought  down. 

The  sight  that  met  his  eyes  froze  him 
with  horror.  Philip's  lifeless  body  lay  upon 
the  ground,  while  Harry,  with  scared  white 
face,  bent  over  it. 

For  a  brief  space  the  old  man  stood  as  if 
petrified,  then  muttered:  "Jerry  ain't  gwine 
know  nothin'  bout  dis  here.  When  ole 
Mars  say,  '  Jerry,  what  you  seen  in  de  Vine 
Ridge  Swash  ? '  Jerry,  he  gwine  say,  *  No- 
98 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


thin',  Marster,  fo'  de  Lord,  I  seen  nothin' 
'tall!'  An'  I  ain't  gwine  tell  no  lie,  nuther, 
'cause  I  ain't  gwine  look!" 

Thus  thinking,  he  cautiously  drew  back, 
and,  with  ashen  face  and  limbs  that  through 
trembling  almost  failed  to  support  him,  he 
stealthily  crept  away  until  out  of  earshot ; 
then  took  to  his  heels  and  fled.  When, 
however,  he  was  forced  to  pause  for  breath, 
he  considered  if  he  had  done  well  to  desert 
his  young  master,  and  turned  reluctantly  to 
retrace  his  steps,  when,  as  he  did  so,  the  air 
was  suddenly  rent  with  ear-piercing  shrieks 
for  half  a  second,  and  Jerry's  heart  quailed. 

"It's  boun'  to  be  de  debil,"  he  whispered. 
Then,  a  light  seeming  to  break  upon  him, 
he  exclaimed:  "Bless  God!  't  ain't  nothin' 
but  de  ole  Chieftain  a-blowin'." 

The  Chieftain,  a  small  freight  steamer, 
had  recently  taken  the  place  of  the  old 
flat-bottomed  scows,  and,  as  the  steam 
whistle  was  still  a  novelty,  it  is  not  surpris- 
ing that  Ung  Jerry,  in  his  terror,  should 
for  the  moment  have  mistaken  it  for  some 
unearthly  sound. 

After  many  irresolute  pauses,  the  old 
99 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

man  at  length  reached  the  scene  of  the 
disaster,  and  with  shaking  hands  thrust 
aside  the  bushes.  Except  for  the  small 
birds  silently  flitting  to  their  roosts,  the 
place  was  utterly  deserted.  The  level  sun- 
beams glinted  through  the  gray  moss, 
gilded  the  tree  trunks,  and  glowed  crimson 
upon  the  brown  leaves;  the  solitary  peace 
of  nature  seemed  unbroken ;  only  the  pool 
of  blood  at  Ung  Jerry's  feet  told  him 
that  what  he  had  witnessed  had  not  been  a 
vision. 

After  a  moment's  survey  he  was  turning 
away,  when  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  two  guns: 
here,  at  least,  was  something  tangible, 
and  the  old  man  proceeded  to  secrete  them 
in  the  fallen  leaves.  Squatted  upon  the 
ground,  he  was  too  busily  engaged  to  note 
the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps,  and 
started  violently  when  a  rough  voice  ac- 
costed him.  He  mustered  courage,  how- 
ever, to  quaver :  — 

"Dat  you,  Mars  Jones.?" 

"Me.^^  of  course  it's  me  I  Who  did  you 
reckon  it  was  ?  " 

"I  dunno.  Mars  Jones." 

100 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


"  Well,  you  '11  know  next  time,  if  you 
don't  keep  them  hogs  o'  yourn  out  of  my 
corn.  Why,  that  confounded  old  sow  can 
destroy  more  corn  in  one  night  than  you 
are  worth." 

"Yes,  Mars  Jones,  dat  de  trufe,"  meekly 
assented  the  old  man. 

Mars  Jones,  warming  to  the  subject,  now 
waxed  more  and  more  eloquent  over  his 
grievances,  until,  having  exhausted  his  pent 
up  wrath,  he  had  leisure  to  observe  old 
Jerry's  ashen  face  and  shaking  limbs,  and 
he  exclaimed :  — 

"  Why,  what 's  the  matter  with  you  ?  are 
you  sick  ?  " 

"Yes,  Mars  Jones,  I's  been  po'ly  dis  lib- 
long  day,  an'  I 's  gittin'  sassifrax  for  to  make 
me  a  Httle  drap  o'  tea,  I 's  got  sich  a  mis'ry." 

"Sassafras!"  here  broke  in  Mars  Jones; 
and,  good-natured,  despite  his  roughness, 
he  took  from  his  pocket  a  tickler,  and 
handing  Jerry  a  dram,  said: 

"  Drink  this,  you  old  blockhead.  Sassi- 
frax, indeed ! — what  good  you  reckon  sas- 
sifrax goin'  do  you  ?" 

With  a  scrape  and  a  bow  and  a  "Thank 


lOI 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

ye,  Marster,"  the  old  man  gulped  down  the 
dram,  and  Mars  Jones,  replacing  his  tickler, 
was  turning  away,  when  his  foot  slipped  in 
something,  and  looking  down  he  saw  that 
it  was  blood. 

The  dram  had  put  so  much  heart  into 
the  old  man  that  he  was  able  to  reply 
glibly  to  Mars  Jones's  questions. 

"It 's  jes'  wha'  I 's  been  markin'  hogs, 
Marster." 

"I  don't  believe  you;  I  beheve  you've 
been  killin'  one  of  your  master's  hogs  — 
that 's  what  you  've  been  at." 

But  as  this  did  not  concern  him,  he  did 
not  wait  to  inquire  further,  and  so,  turning 
on  his  heel,  he  strode  off. 

The  hog-feeder,  too,  hastening  away, 
took  the  shortest  path  back  to  his  cart. 

The  deserted  barnyard  lay  silent  in 
the  white  moonlight  when  the  little  cart 
creaked  through  the  gate ;  but  up  at  the 
"great  house"  there  were  lights  and  move- 
ments where  the  family  watched  the  coming 
of  the  boys. 

Thursday,  Friday,  and  Saturday  passed 
without  tidings,  and  the  hope  that  they  had 

102 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


been  caught  by  the  rising  water  and  im- 
prisoned upon  some  isolated  knoll  had  been 
abandoned  after  the  swamps  had  been 
searched  in  every  direction.  To  add  to 
the  grief  of  the  household,  the  master,  al- 
ready enfeebled,  now  lay  prostrated  in  a 
condition  that  almost  forbade  hope. 

Upon  Sunday  the  waters  began  to  abate, 
fences  again  appeared,  and  patches  of 
drowned  corn  showed  themselves  above 
the  wastes  of  water,  to  the  no  small  joy 
of  the  flocks  of  blackbirds  which  chattered 
and  fluttered  amono;st  them. 

Mr.  Jones,  tired  of  the  loneliness  of  his 
water-girt  home,  made  his  way  to  the 
meeting-house,  more  for  the  sake  of  a  gossip 
with  some  of  the  neighbors  than  for  the 
day's  preaching,  and  it  was  there  that  he 
first  heard  the  startling  news  of  the  unac- 
countable disappearance  of  Squire  Brace's 
nephews. 

In  the  excitement,  each  man  was  eager 
to  advance  his  own  theory.  The  discussion 
ended,  however,  in  the  general  opinion  that 
their  canoe  had  been  swamped  in  the  freshet 
and  the  boys  drowned,  until  a  newcomer 
103 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


asserted  that  the  canoe,  with  Phil's  overcoat 
still  in  it,  had  been  found  tied  up  at  the 
Vine  Ridge  landing,  and  that  their  guns 
had  been  discovered  hidden  in  the  leaves 
at  no  great  distance  in  the  swamp. 

Upon  hearing  this,  Mr.  Jones  could  but 
call  to  mind  his  meeting  with  the  hog- 
feeder,  his  strange  behavior,  and  the  blood 
upon  the  ground,  and  he  at  once  jumped 
to  the  conclusion  that  old  Jerry  had  been 
at  least  a  party  to  some  foul  deed.  His 
suspicions,  once  made  known,  became  cer- 
tainties, and  the  whole  party,  hastily  mount- 
ing their  horses,  rode  off  to  the  nearest 
justice,  their  convictions  gaining  ground  so 
rapidly  that,  ere  the  house  of  the  justice 
was  reached,  poor,  simple  old  Jerry,  the 
most  harmless  of  God's  creatures,  had  be- 
come in  their  estimation  a  villain  of  the 
deepest  dye. 

Upon  this  identical  Sunday  morning  the 
old  hog-feeder  betook  himself  to  the  little 
plantation  church,  whose  bell,  with  cracked 
clamor,  gave  warning  that  preaching  was 
about  to  begin. 

The  frosty  brightness  of  the  past  week 
104 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


had  given  place  to  a  soft  mist,  through  whose 
dimness  the  pale  sunbeams  looked  sadly 
upon  the  autumnal  world;  and  as  the  old 
man,  dressed  in  his  Sunday  clothes,  plodded 
along  the  path,  the  tiny  crickets  from  be- 
neath the  grass  sent  up  their  sad,  perpetual 
dirge. 

Men  and  women,  all  shining  with  Sab- 
bath cleanness,  came  straggling  toward  the 
church,  silently  and  soberly,  without  the 
usual  lio-ht-hearted  lauo-hter,  for  the  trouble 
at  the  "  great  house  "  was  felt  by  all  the 
little  band.  Yet  their  feelings  were  not  with- 
out a  mixture  of  pleasurable  excitement, 
for  all  were  anticipating  with  gloomy  satis- 
faction the  lengthy  prayers,  the  groanings, 
and  the  head-shakings  upon  this  mournful 
day. 

The  congregation  had  taken  their  seats, 
old  Jethro  had  taken  his  place  in  the  pulpit, 
the  lono;-drawn  cadence  of  the  funeral  hymn 
had  floated  sadly  up  to  the  "  great  house," 
when  a  noise  at  the  door  startled  the  con- 
gregation, who,  turning,  beheld  standing 
in  the  door  a  group  of  white  men.  Among 
them  was  the  overseer,  who,  coming  forward, 
105 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


announced  that  hog-feeder  Jerry  was  to  be 
arrested  upon  a  charge  of  murder.  "  Not 
that  I  believe  it,  men,"  he  said,  "but  the  law 
must  take  its  course." 

In  the  meantime  two  others  had  ap- 
proached the  old  man,  who  had  already 
stumbled  to  his  feet,  and,  while  bowing  in 
a  dazed  kind  of  way,  kept  murmuring, 
"  Sarvent,  Marsters." 

Handcuffs  were  put  upon  him,  and  amid 
a  profound  silence  he  was  led  forth  and  lifted 
into  a  cart.  The  two  sheriffs  took  their 
places  upon  each  side  of  him,  and  the  cortege 
moved  off. 

The  people,  having  sufficiently  recovered 
from  their  shock  to  jostle  one  another  out 
of  the  building,  stood  huddled  together  like 
a  flock  of  frightened  sheep;  but  when  the 
cavalcade  had  driven  off,  a  subdued  clamor 
of  voices  arose,  all  unanimous  in  contempt 
for  "dese  here  po'  white,  who 'd  ha'  knowed 
better  'n  to  come  meddlin'  long  o'  Marster's 
folks  ef  Marster  wan't  down  on  de  bed  an* 
mos'  like  to  die !  " 

That  the  dull  and  simple  brain  of  the 
old  man  should  have  been  capable  of  any 
io6 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


formulated  plan  is  not  to  be  imagined,  and 
when  upon  the  following  day  he  was  taken 
before  the  justice  for  examination,  he  mere- 
ly acted  from  an  instinct  of  affection  in 
shielding  his  young  master,  even  at  the 
risk  of  his  own  life.  When  questioned,  he 
preserved  an  obstinate  silence;  then,  when 
forced  to  speak,  denied  having  seen  either 
of  the  boys  upon  the  day  of  their  disappear- 
ance, but,  when  cross-questioned,  admitted 
that  he  had  seen  Mars  Phil  in  the  Vine 
Ridge  woods ;  and  finally,  when  taxed 
with  the  blood  upon  the  ground  and  with 
having  hidden  the  guns,  he  reluctantly  ad- 
mitted that "  ef  Mars  Phil  had  been  hurted  " 
he  had  done  it. 

"What  did  you  do  with  the  body?'.'  ques- 
tioned the  justice;  "  throw  it  in  the  river?  " 

A  murmur  from  the  prisoner,  which 
passed  for  assent,  concluded  the  examina- 
tion, and  the  justice,  sorely  puzzled,  com- 
mitted him  to  jail  to  await  his  trial. 

With  the  early  morning,  the  country 
people  had  begun  to  gather  around  the 
courthouse,  and  when  told  that  the  old 
miscreant  had  actually  confessed  to  the 
107 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

murder,  their  innate  love  of  justice  gave 
place  to  fierce  anger;  and  when  the  pris- 
oner, gray  with  terror,  bent  and  tottering, 
was  led  forth,  he  was  surrounded  by  a  silent 
but  determined  crowd,  who,  thrusting  the 
sheriffs  aside,  seized  and  drove  him  before 
them,  and  had  already  slipped  the  noose 
about  his  neck,  when  an  inarticulate  shout 
caused  the  crowd  to  sway,  —  a  horseman 
dashed  into  their  midst  and  proclaimed 
that  both  boys  were  alive.  Their  disappear- 
ance had  been  explained  on  that  morning 
by  a  letter  forwarded  by  hand,  which  ran 
as  follows :  — 

-  On  Board  the  Chieftain. 

Dear  Uncle,  —  This  afternoon,  while 
hunting  in  the  Vine  Ridge  woods,  Phil's 
gun  went  off  and  wounded  him  in  the  side. 
I  was  at  my  wit's  end  what  to  do,  when  I 
heard  the  Chieftain  blow  up  the  river;  so 
I  tore  off  to  the  levee,  where  I  was  lucky 
enough  to  succeed  in  attracting  Captain 
Smith's  attention,  who  sent  off  a  boat,  and 
we  managed  to  get  Phil  on  board.  I 
wanted  Smith  to  put  back  to  our  landing, 
io8 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


but  he  thought  the  current  too  strong;  and 
on  the  whole,  I  beheve  it  is  better  for  Phil 
to  keep  on  to  Hilton,  as  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  G:et  a  doctor  at  home  in  this  hio-h 
water.  Phil's  hurt  is  not  very  serious,  I  hope. 
Your  dutiful  nephew, 

Harry  Brace. 

On  the  day  succeeding  Harry's  home- 
cominQ-,  he  entered  the  room  desio-nated  the 
"study,"  in  which  the  Squire  was  usually 
to  be  found  when  indoors. 

The  room  probably  owed  the  name  of 
"  study  "  to  a  set  of  Farmer  s  Magazines 
wdiich,  in  all  the  dignity  of  expensive  bind- 
ings, divided  the  shelf  with  a  rather  dam- 
aged edition  of  "  The  Turf  Register,"  a 
"  Farrier's  Manual,"  a  brace  of  antiquated 
medical  works,  and  a  stack  of  newspapers. 
Fishing  tackle,  a  cupping  apparatus,  a  set 
of  engineering  instruments,  half  a  dozen 
ears  of  extra  fine  seed  corn,  medicine  scales, 
and  a  huQ;e  cotton  stock  filled  the  rest  of 
the  bookcase. 

The  Squire,  seated  before  a  blazing  fire, 
in  the  lazy  comforts  of  convalescence,  with 
109 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


pipe  and  tobacco  at  his  elbow,  presented  a 
not  unenviable  picture  when  contrasted  with 
the  wintry  grayness  outside. 

Harry,  who  had  been  greatly  touched  by 
the  old  hog-feeder's  affectionate  fidelity,  now 
sought  his  uncle  in  order  to  beg  that  as  a 
recompense  he  might  be  given  his  freedom. 

"  Freedom ! "  exclaimed  the  Squire ;  "  why, 
confound  it,  my  dear  boy,  what  would  he 
do  with  freedom,  if  he  had  it  ? " 

"  I  think  he  would  like  it,"  Harry  mur- 
'  mured,  a  little  sheepishly. 

"  Why,  he's  as  free  as  air  now;  a  deuced 
sight  freer  than  I  am." 

Nevertheless  Harry  gained  his  point, 
and  though  the  Squire  growled,  "  You 
young  jackanapes,  you  've  robbed  me  of 
the  best  hog-feeder  on  the  river,"  still  he  was 
evidently  pleased,  and  in  the  evening  old 
Jerry  was  sent  for. 

When,  in  answer  to  the  summons,  Jerry 
presented  himself  at  the  study  door,  his 
master  said  to  him,  with  a  stateliness  fitted 
to  the  occasion  :  — 

"Jerry,  I  have  sent  for  you  to  tell  you 
that  your  young  master  here,  as  a  reward 

1 10 


THE  HOG-FEEDER'S  DAY 


for  your  fidelity,  desires  to  give  you  your 
freedom." 

Here  the  Squire  paused,  and  Jerry,  not 
knowing  what  else  to  say,  said,  "  Yes,  Mar- 
ster." 

Harry,  standing  by,  was  feeling  rather 
wrought  up,  while  the  Squire,  also  some- 
what excited,  continued :  — 

"  I  will  give  you  a  house  in  the  free  settle- 
ment, out  in  the  slashes,  and  your  young 
master  will  always  take  care  of  you." 

Another  rather  disconcerting  pause  was 
broken  by  a  second  "  Yes,  Marster ; "  and  the 
old  man,  picking  up  his  hat,  shuffled  out. 

The  Squire  glanced  at  Harry  with  a  mis- 
chievous twinkle  in  his  eyes,  but  the  boy's 
face  expressed  such  blank  disappointment 
that  he  took  pity  upon  him,  and,  picking 
up  a  newspaper,  dismissed  the  matter. 

Upon  the  following  evening  a  low  knock 
was  heard  at  the  study  door,  then  a  fum- 
bling at  the  latch,  and  old  Jerry  once  more 
stood  upon  the  threshold. 

"  Well,  old  man,  what  is  it  now  ?  "  his  mas- 
ter asked  kindly.  "  Come,  out  with  it !  "  he 
repeated,  as  the  old  man,  with  a  feeble  grin, 
III 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


stood  helplessly  fingering  his  hat.  "  What 's 
the  matter  ? " 

And  old  Jerry,  slowly  scratching  his  head, 
made  answer:  — 

"  Thank,  Marster ;  I 's  come  to  ax  Mars- 
ter  what  I  done  to  'splease  Mars  ?  " 

"  Displease  me !  Why,  what  has  put  that 
notion  into  your  head?" 

"  I  dunno,  Mars,  what  I 's  done,  but  I 's 
skeared  Mars  mout  be  set  agin  me,  'cause 
he  say  he  gwine  sen'  me  offen  de  planta- 
tion." 

Then  Harry  explained  that  he  was  to  be 
set  free,  and  eagerly  enlarged  upon  the  de- 
lights of  liberty.  The  hog-feeder  listened, 
but  was  unmoved :  he  obstinately  declined 
to  accept  his  freedom,  his  plea  being  that 
"  the  varments  "  would  "  'stroy  up  his  cree- 
turs  "  if  he  were  not  there  to  look  after 
them. 

"  De  black  sow,  she  got  a  fine  litter  o' 
pigs  now,  an'  de  foxes  is  a'ter  'em  de 
blessed  time." 

After  this  no  more  could  be  urged,  and 
Jerry,  scraping  his  foot,  went  out  with  a 
mind  full  of  content. 


THE  JUNIOR  RESERVE 


r  was  in  the  early  summer  of 
1864  that  the  family  at  Swan 
Manor  was  thrown  off  its  bal- 
ance by  the  calling  out  of  "  The 
Junior  Reserves."  That  unfledged  boys, 
and  among  them  their  own  little  smooth- 
cheeked  Billy,  should  be  called  upon  to  fill 
up  the  thinned  and  broken  ranks  of  the 
Southern  army  filled  their  hearts  with  dis- 
may. The  old  Squire,  with  bushy  brows 
beetling  over  his  eyes,  sat  in  grief  too  deep 
for  words,  a  prey  to  the  darkest  forebodings. 
Miss  Jemima  had  wept  until  her  eyes  were 
mere  nothings,  while  her  nose,  coming  gal- 
lantly to  the  front,  had  assumed  an  undue 
prominence.  Kate,  with  her  pretty  lips 
drawn  to  keep  down  the  rising  sobs,  tried 
all  in  vain  to  bestow  upon  her  twin  brother 
bright  looks  and  smiles,  ever  before  so  ready 
and  spontaneous.  In  the  early  secession 
days  it  had  seemed  such  fun  to  ride  to  dress 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

parade  and  toss  bouquets  to  the  laughing 
"  boys  in  gray,"  while  all  the  world  played 
Dixie ! 

"  Away  down  South  in  Dixie." 

How  she  and  Billy  had  whispered  and 
plotted,  and  how  great  the  triumph  when 
together  they  climbed  the  gate-post  and, 
after  much  toil,  successfully  planted  their 
little  red  and  white  flag!  But  now,  alas!  all 
was  changed, —  they  were  fast  getting  to 
be  grown-up  people,  and  now  her  own  dear 
Billy  must  go  to  help  drive  the  Yankees 
out  of  Dixie. 

As  for  Billy  himself,  a  suppressed  but 
exultant  grin  shone  upon  his  face,  a  trifle 
deprecating  when  in  the  presence  of  his 
grandfather  or  his  tearful  Aunt  Jemima, 
but  very  jubilant  despite  these  drawbacks. 
In  truth  this  junior  reserve  was  only  too 
pleased  to  exchange  the  Latin  grammar  for 
the  musket,  and  little  cared  he  for  prospec- 
tive harships,  provided  school  were  not 
among  them. 

In  the  few  busy  days  before  the  depar- 
ture, Kate  followed  Billy's  footsteps,  trying 
in  vain  to  share  his  elation.  "  Good  gracious, 
114 


THE  JUNIOR  RESERVE 

Kate,"  he  would  exclaim,  when  he  discovered 
her  furtively  wiping  her  eyes  with  her  little 
damp  ball  of  a  pocket  handkerchief,  "don't 
be  such  a  little  goose  ;  why,  what  would  you 
have  a  fellow  do  ?  I  had  no  idea  that  you 
were  that  sort  of  a  girl."  Then,  as  between 
laughing  and  crying  her  face  contorted  it- 
self into  a  sort  of  spasmodic  grin,  he  would 
say :  "  Now  that 's  right,  that 's  the  way  to  do, 
if  you  '11  just  cheer  up,  I  '11  be  all  right;  the 
Yankees  '11  not  bother  me  much,  you  bet." 

At  the  request  of  Serena  (Billy's  former 
nurse)  her  boy  Cy  was  chosen  to  accompany 
his  young  master  as  body  servant,  one  of 
his  chief  recommendations  being  that,  nat- 
urally "skeary,"  he  would  be  a  safe  com- 
panion ;  also,  as  his  mother  proudly  averred, 
he  was  the  fastest  runner  upon  the  plan- 
tation. 

It  was  upon  a  golden  evening  in  June 
that  little  Billy  bade  farewell  to  his  home, 
Miss  Jemima  and  Kate  going  with  him  to 
the  little  wayside  station.  Cy,  gotten  up 
in  great  style,  followed,  while  the  rear  was 
brought  up  by  a  motley  procession,  —  all 
eager  for  the  honor  of  carrying  some  of  the 
115 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


belongings.  The  Squire,  with  Don  the  old 
Irish  setter,  stood  in  the  doorway  until 
Billy  passed  out  of  sight;  then  the  two 
together,  the  old  man  and  the  old  dog,  went 
back  into  the  silent  house. 

The  path  to  the  station  wound  its  way 
through  a  field  of  ripening  wheat,  from 
whence  the  clear  whistle  of  a  partridge 
smote  sharply  though  the  fervid  air.  Billy 
paused,  and,  pointing  to  a  tangle  of  black- 
berry, exclaimed :  "  There 's  a  nest  there 
as  sure  as  shooting,  and  I  '11  go  there  to- 
mor — "  A  quick  catching  of  the  breath  cut 
short  the  unfinished  words,  and  the  boy, 
with  Hps  slightly  drawn,  quickened  his  pace. 
Kate,  choking  down  her  sobs,  held  his  hand 
in  her  tight  clasp,  as  she  kept  pace  with  his 
hurried  step.  Miss  Jemima,  steadying  her 
voice,  remarked  with  a  sprightly  air  that 
there  would  be  fine  shooting  when  he 
should  come  back  in  the  autumn.  Then 
the  little  station  came  into  view,  looking 
very  empty  and  deserted ;  two  men  loading 
a  flat  car  were  the  only  living  objects  to  be 
seen.  They  paused  in  their  work  to  greet 
Billy,  and  ask  where  he  was  off  to.  It  seemed 
ii6 


THE  JUNIOR  RESERVE 

so  strange  a  thing  to  Kate  that  all  the  world 
did  not  know. 

The  train  was  not  on  time,  and  the  wait- 
ing became  so  painful  that  it  was  almost 
with  gladness  that  they  heard  the  warning 
whistle  far  down  the  track.  A  small  crowd 
had  gradually  collected,  and  some  one  re- 
marked :  "  She 's  blowin'  for  the  bridge. 
It  '11  be  ten  minutes  before  she 's  here." 
To  the  tumultuously  throbbing  hearts  of 
the  little  party  it  was  a  positive  relief  when 
a  puff  of  smoke  was  seen  and  the  engine 
came  rushing  around  the  bend.  Then  there 
were  hurried  kisses;  the  bell  clanged,  a 
voice  called  out,  "  All  aboard,"  and  the  train 
w^as  off.  "  Gone,  gone,  gone,"  Kate  repeated 
over  and  over  to  herself,  as  she  gazed  with 
tearless  eyes  into  the  dim  distance  of  the 
now  silent  track. 

As  the  party  retraced  their  steps  home- 
ward the  partridge  was  still  calling  his 
cheerful  "  Bob  White  "from  amid  the  wheat, 
while  from  the  shadowy  depth  of  a  laurel 
thicket  came  the  sweet  gurgle  of  the  wood- 
thrush. 

In  the  late  summer,  news — glorious 
117 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


news  —  came  that  the  foe  had  been  driven 
back,  and  their  boy  was  unhurt. 

Later,  a  man  from  the  front  at  home  on 
furlough  was  heard  to  say  that  "  Billy 
Swan  was  a  regular  trump,  and  had  borne 
himself  like  a  veteran."  Kate  walked  elate, 
saying  the  words  over  and  over,  with  a  proud 
smile,  "A  hero,  a  regular  trump,"  —  he,  her 
own  dear  Billy.  The  old  Squire,  too,  with 
ill-concealed  pride  in  his  boy,  was  once  more 
like  his  former  self. 

Happy  days  —  brief,  hopeful  days !  Alas, 
alas !  Many  Junes  have  come  and  gone  since 
little  Billy  was  laid  to  rest  in  the  old  bury- 
ing-ground,  close  to  the  wheat-field  where 
the  partridge  calls,  calls,  the  long  day 
through.  June  roses  scatter  their  leaves 
above  him,  and  when  the  sun  drops  low,  with 
long  golden  shafts  -upon  the  green  mound 
which  covers  him,  from  far  down  in  the 
laurel  thicket  comes  the  liquid  gurgle  of 
the  wood-thrush.  Kate  looks  into  faces, 
once  frank  and  bright,  and  full  of  youth 
and  hope,  now  grown  old  and  seamed  with 
care,  and  she  tells  herself  that  "  whom  the 
gods  love,  die  young." 


MAMMY 


WO  little  snub  noses  were  flat- 
tening themselves  against  the 
nursery  window  pane,  while 
the  four  eager  eyes  watched 
the  soft  flakes  whirling  through  the  air  and 
silently  descending  upon  the  whitening 
earth. 

"  Sposen  we  was  to  steal  out,"  whispered 
the  boy,  "  an'  hide,  so  Mammy  couldn't 
never  find  us  no  more." 

An  excited  chuckle  interrupted  the  fur- 
ther development  of  this  deliciously  lawless 
scheme  ;  but,  though  the  little  sister  caught 
the  infection,  she  prudently  turned  from 
the  tempting  prospect,  saying,  "  No,  Sed, 
I 's  'fraid  you  might  git  the  croups  an' 
die." 

The  other  occupants  of  the  room,  were  a 
little  roly-poly  cherub  of  a  girl,  seated  in  a 
tiny  chair,  holding  in  her  arms  a  rag  baby» 
which  she  rocked  and  dangled  in  servile 
H9 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

imitation  of  her  mammy,  who,  with  bump- 
ings  peculiar  to  the  nursery  chair,  was 
rocking  to  sleep  a  still  younger  babe.  A 
fair  little  maiden,  curled  up  comfortably 
upon  a  cushion,  the  firelight  glistening 
upon  her  yellow  locks,  bent  over  a  book, 
from  which  she  read,  in  high-pitched,  child- 
ish voice,  to  her  mammy,  the  story  of  "  El- 
len Lynn."  Mammy  was  very  proud  that 
her  nursling  could  read,  and  would  cast  ad- 
miring looks  upon  the  child  as  she  bent 
over  her  book,  with  finger  pointing  to  each 
word.  Both  were  absorbed  in  the  story, 
and  every  picture  was  examined  with 
scrupulous  care. 

Another  occupant  of  the  nursery  was 
"Chany,"  the  under  nursemaid.  Gawky, 
sleek,  and  black,  she  sat  flat  upon  the  floor, 
her  large,  well-shod  feet  turned  to  the  fire, 
a  picture  of  lazy,  vacant  content. 

"  Ch-Ch-Chany," stuttered  Mammy, "look 
in  de  top  drawer  an'  git  a  hankcher  and 
blow  dat  chile's  nose.  Go  on  wid  yo  book, 
honey;  Mammy  ain't  goin'  'sturb  you  no 
mo." 

"  Mr.  Lynn  left  the  sleigh,  and  turning 

120 


iMAMMY 


from  the  island"  —  piped  little  Caroline. 
Then  there  came  another  prolonged  snuf- 
fle from  Sediey. 

"You  Ch-Ch-Chany,  why 'n't  you  git 
dat  hankcher  ?  "  caused  that  languid  maiden 
to  bestir  herself.  Having  fumbled  in  the 
drawer  for  the  handkerchief,  she  approached 
the  window,  but  no  sooner  did  the  little  boy 
become  aware  of  her  intention  than,  with  a 
rebellious  shake  of  his  curly  head,  he  buried 
his  nose  in  his  little  chapped  fists,  and,  re- 
gardless of  Sibyls  advice, that  he  had  better 
be  good,  he  firmly  stood  his  ground,  deter- 
mined to  resist  Chany  to  the  death. 

"  He  ain't  gwine  let  me  tetch  him,"  said 
Chany,  feebly  dabbing  at  him  with  the 
handkerchief. 

"  Do,  pray,  gal,  don't  be  so  no-'count," 
Mammy  answered.  Then  Chany,  stung  by 
the  imputation,  made  another  helpless  dive; 
a  scuffle  ensued,  in  which  she  was  utterly 
routed,  and  the  victorious  Sediey  threw 
himself  upon  Mammy's  lap. 

"  Gi'  me  de  hankcher,"  said  Mammy, 
with  an  air  of  withering  contempt.  "  There, 
now,  you  done  woke  up  your  little  brother," 

121 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


she  said,  when,  the  nose  being  blown,  she 
again  returned  to  trying  to  jolt  baby  Joe  to 
sleep.  "  He  jest  had  drapped  off  into  a 
doze." 

"  Oh,  chilluns,  le 's  pop  some  corn  !  " 
Chany  now  exclaimed.  "  Here 's  a  whole 
sight  of  it,"  she  went  on,  as  she  searched  a 
basket,  which  she  had  unearthed  from  the 
closet. 

"Oh!  pop  corn!"  shouted  Sedley  and 
Sibyl,  running,  and  each  seizing  an  ear. 

"  Oh !  pop  torn ! "  echoed  the  cherub, 
throwing  down  her  rag  baby.  So  the 
shovel  was  run  into  the  ashes,  and  Chany 
and  the  three  little  ones  set  to  work  to 
shell  the  corn. 

Quiet  was  again  restored,  and  Caroline, 
who,  all  through  the  hubbub,  had  kept  her 
finger  faithfully  upon  "island,"  continued 
her  reading. 

Mammy  now  substituted  a  sideways 
movement  of  the  knees  for  the  more  vig- 
orous bumping  of  the  chair,  and  baby  Joe 
—  lying  luxuriously  upon  her  wide  lap  — 
gazed  dreamily  into  the  glowing  coals  upon 
the  hearth,  until  gradually  the  white  lids 

122 


MAMMY 

drooped  over  the  blue  eyes,  and  he  slept. 
The  nursery  was  very  quiet  now.  The 
corn-poppers  were  intent  upon  their  work, 
and  Mammy,  soothed  by  the  unwonted  still- 
ness, listened  drowsily  to  the  little  reader 
until  fresh  interest  was  excited  by  the  fol- 
lowing words. 

"  The  men  were  now  still  more  alarmed," 
read  Caroline.  "  Farmer  Lynn  said  that  he 
would  go  with  them  and  see  what  had  be- 
come of  I\Ir.  Lynn  and  Annie.  The  whole 
party  accordingly  went  back  to  the  river. 
After  searching  about  for  some  time,  one  of 
the  men  espied  something  black  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  snow,  at  a  great  distance  down 
the  river.  They  all  proceeded  to  the  spot, 
and  were  dreadfully  shocked  on  arriving  * 
there  to  find  that  the  black  spot  was  a  part 
of  IMr.  Lynn's  arm  and  that  his  body  was 
beneath,  frozen,  and  buried  up  in  the  snow." 

When  Mammy  heard  these  words,  she 
threw  up  her  arms,  and  exclaimed,  "  Lord, 
have  mercy 'pon  my  soul!  What!  Mr,  Lynn 
hisself?" 

To  her  imagination  Mr.  Lynn  w^as  a  most 
real  person.  The  book  was  now^  brought 
123 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

to  her,  and  she,  with  Httle  Carohne,  looked 
with  deep  and  mournful  interest  at  the  pic- 
ture of  the  empty  sleigh. 

"  It  certainly  is  a  awful  country  to  live 
in;  seem  like  it  ain't  fatten  for  a  dog,  much 
less  white  folks.  To  think  o'  Mr.  Lynn  his- 
self  bein*  froze  to  death.  Well !  well !  well ! 
It  certainly  was  onexpected." 

The  children's  story  books  furnished 
Mammy  with  many  thoughts.  Among  them 
was  a  set  of  German  nursery  tales,  full  of 
quaint  colored  pictures,  in  which  she  took 
especial  pleasure.  Seated  by  the  nursery 
fire,  the  baby  asleep  in  his  crib  and  the 
others  out  at  play,  she  would  turn  the  leaves 
feeling  that  each  picture  was  a  living  por- 
trait. Slovenly  Peter,  Rocking  Phillip,  and 
Greedy  Jacob  were  her  favorites.  Once 
when  shown  a  pretzel,  she  exclaimed,  "  Ef 
it  ain 't  the  very  thing  what  Jacob  had  in 
his  hand  when  he  busted,"  and,  taking  the 
pretzel  in  her  hand,  she  contemplated  it 
with  a  thoughtful  and  sentimental  air. 

The  nursery  door  was  now  burst  open, 
and  in  rushed  Harry,  bringing  with  him  a 
blast  of  fresh  cold  air ;  black  Ned  came  too, 
124 


MAMMY 


and  both  brought  upon  their  feet  enough 
snow  to  cover  the  carpet  with  moist  tracks. 

"  You  Ne-Ne-Ned,  ain 't  you  got  no  mo* 
manners  than  to  be  a-tracking  up  de  house 
dis  way?  Go  'long  out  and  clean  your 
feet;"  but  the  hubbub  was  too  great  for 
Mammy's  words  to  be  heeded;  pig-tails 
were  being  brandished  aloft,  and  the  child- 
ren all  clustered  round  Harry  and  Ned, 
asking  questions  and  clamoring  for  pig- 
tails. 

"Look!"  said  Harry.  "Here's  somefin 
better 'n  pig-tails,"  and  he  drew  from  his 
pocket  the  mangled  remains  of  a  dozen  or 
more  snow-birds. 

A  scramble  now  ensued,  and  Sibyl  — 
having  secured  as  many  as  she  wanted 
—  retired  to  a  corner,  and  silently  fell  to 
plucking  them,  while  Sedley,  who  was  as 
vainglorious  as  a  Comanche,  capered  about 
on  his  short  legs,  and  boasted  of  imaginary 
exploits  with  trap  and  dead-fall. 

Caroline  looked  on,  half  pleased  and  half 
disgusted,  keeping  herself  clear  of  contact. 

"  Miss  Calline  she  too  proud  to  fetch  pig- 
tails," grinned  Chany. 

125 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


"  'F  cose  she  is,"  MAmmy  answered,  bri- 
dling. She  was  very  vain  of  Miss  Caroline's 
daintiness. 

The  baby  was  now  laid  in  his  crib. 
Chany  was  dispatched  for  salt  and  pepper ; 
the  shovel  was  again  run  into  the  ashes, 
pig-tails  were  placed  delicately  upon  the 
coals,  and  the  nursery,  pervaded  with  the 
various  odors  of  wet  shoes,  burnt  corn,  fried 
grease,  etc.,  was  given  up  to  disorder  and 
cooking,  into  which  Mammy  threw  herself 
with  as  much  zest  as  did  the  children.  The 
pig-tails  were  broiled  to  a  turn,  and  the 
small  birds  were  frizzling  away  upon  the 
shovel,  when  Sedley,  taking  advantage  of 
his  opportunity,  made  a  rush  for  the  door, 
opened  it,  and  was  outside,  with  mouth 
and  hands  full  of  snow.  Before  Mammy's 
vigilant  eye  had  noted  his  escape,  he  was 
flying  back  in  triumph,  with  a  big  ball  in 
his  fist,  when  she  met  him  and,  with  dex- 
terous grasp,  wrenched  it  from  him. 

"  Di-di-did  anybody  ever  see  your  match!" 
she  exclaimed  as  she  hurled  the  ball  into 
the  fire.   "  I  clar  I 's  got  a  good  mind  to 
take  you  right  straight  to  your  ma." 
126 


MAMMY 


But  Sedley  knew  the  value  of  such 
threats  and  soon  wiggled  himself  out  of 
her  grasp. 

"  Da  now,  q-q'  Ions;  an'  'have  \ourself;'  she 
said,  with  admirins;  fondness,  as  he  laug-hed 
and  capered  away  from  her. 

"  Honev,  what  is  vou  a-doin  ?  "  she  now 
inquired  of  Sibyl,  who,  with  hot  cheeks,  was 
bending  over  a  pile  of  coals.  "Cookin'  a 
bird?  Let  me  do  it,  —  you  s  a-burnin'  your 
little  face  clean  to  a  cracklin'." 

"  Xo,  Mammy,  I 'm  cookin'  my  bird  for 
grandma,"  the  child  answered,  rejecting  all 
help.  "  an'  I 'm  goin'  to  do  it  all  by  my- 
self." 

"A"\'h\  baby  honey,  your  gran'ma  ain't 
comin'  before  Christmas  eve,  an'  dat 's  a 
week  off.  Your  bird  ain't  goin'  keep  all 
dat  time,  but  ne'  mine,  I  '11  make  Ned 
ketch  you  another  one." 

Upon  Christmas  Eve,  the  children  might 
have  been  seen  at  the  big  gate,  straining 
their  eyes  down  the  road,  each  hoping  to 
be  the  first  to  see  their  grandmother's  car- 
riage. \'isions  of  waxen  dolls,  sugar-plums, 
127 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

and  other  vague  delights  imparted  a  double 
zest  to  her  arrival,  —  to  say  nothing  of 
Uncle  Robin  (the  driver)  who,  in  the  esti- 
mation of  the  little  boys,  was  of  far  greater 
importance  than  was  their  grandmother. 
To  them  he  was  an  oracle  of  wisdom,  and 
their  delight  was  to  follow  him  about  the 
stable  lot  or  to  sit  in  the  sunshine  and 
hang  upon  his  words ;  for  his  imagination 
was  fertile,  and  the  boys  would  listen  with 
wonder  to  the  tales  of  his  prowess  and  skill 
with  horses.  Something  was  now  observed 
to  be  moving  far  down  the  road,  which 
soon  proved  to  be  the  carriage.  Yes,  there 
were  "Phoenix"  and  "Peacock,"  which  no 
one  but  Uncle  Robin  could  handle,  and 
there  sat  Uncle  Robin  upon  the  box,  and 
there  was  grandma  inside,  smiling  and 
waving  her  handkerchief,  and  there,  too, 
sat  Aunt  Polly,  grandma's  maid. 

The  carriage  stopped,  and  Uncle  Robin, 
bowing  and  smiling,  descended  and  opened 
the  door,  and  they  all  scrambled  in  and 
were  hugged  and  kissed,  and  Polly  ad- 
mired their  beauty  and  exclaimed  at  their 
growth.  Then  the  door  was  clapped  to 
128 


MAMMY 


again,  but  not  before  Harry  had  managed 
to  slip  out  and  clamber  to  the  box  beside 
Uncle  Robin,  who,  having  driven  through 
the  gate,  handed  him  the  reins,  with  a 
caution  to  keep  his  eye  upon  Peacock.  In 
the  estimation  of  the  boy,  this  sleek  and 
overfed  Peacock  seemed  little  less  than  a 
raging  lion  whom  only  Uncle  Robin  could 
quell. 

"He'll  run  in  a  minute,  if  he  gits  a 
chance,"  said  the  guileful  Uncle  Robin. 
So  Harry  clutched  the  reins  and  drove 
proudly  past  the  lot,  in  full  view  of  some 
of  the  men,  turned  in  at  the  yard  gate,  and 
drew  up  before  the  door. 

Grandma  could  not  wait  for  the  hang- 
ing of  the  Christmas  stockings,  but  in- 
sisted upon  opening  her  trunk  at  once, 
and  displaying  her  gifts  to  the  children's 
delighted  eyes.  The  wax  babies  exceeded 
their  wildest  hopes.  The  house  was  made 
horrible  with  horns  and  drums.  Mammy 
laughed  and  showed  her  dimples  and  cour- 
tesied  over  her  own  gorgeous  present,  and 
all  felt  that  Christmas  had  really  come. 

For  several  days,  indeed,  throughout  the 
129 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

holidays,  Harry  felt  that  he  had  left  child- 
hood far  behind  him,  and,  as  he  strutted 
about  the  stable  yard,  he  now  and  then  ex- 
pectorated, in  imitation  of  Uncle  Robin, 
as  though  he  had  a  quid  in  his  mouth. 

Aunt  Polly,  though  far  inferior  to  Uncle 
Robin  in  the  children's  estimation,  was 
yet  a  person  of  distinction,  and  no  naughti- 
ness was  ever  displayed  when  she  was  by 
to  witness  it. 

Mammy  usually  enjoyed  a  gossip  with 
Aunt  Polly  over  the  nursery  fire.  But, 
sometimes  feelings  of  coolness  would  arise. 
Polly  belonged  to  the  family  of  the  mother 
of  the  children,  while  Mammy  came  from 
that  of  the  father,  and  between  the  two  a 
slight  rivalry  had  always  existed  as  to  the 
superiority  of  her  own  white  children. 

"  'T  is  a  pity  Miss  Calline's  back 's  so 
round,"  said  Polly  one  night  as  the  child- 
ren were  being  undressed. 

Now,  if  there  was  a  feature  in  which 
Mammy  took  a  pride,  it  was  in  the  straight- 
ness  of  the  children's  limbs  and  the  flatness 
of  their  backs,  above  all  the  limbs  and 
backs  in  the  other  branches  of  the  family; 
130 


MAMMY 


so,  firing  up  at  once,  she  replied  that  she 
would  like  to  see  a  flatter  back  than  "this 
here  one,"  laying  her  hand  upon  Caro- 
line's. 

"Miss  Emmaline's  is  a  sight  flatter," 
Polly  stoutly  maintained.  "  She 's  got  as 
pretty  shape  as  ever  I  see,  —  all  our  peo- 
ple 's  got  good  shapes  from  old  Missis 
down.  I  reckon  this  chile 's  got  her  back 
from  her  pa's  fambly."  When  Polly  said 
this,  Mammy  felt  that  the  gauntlet  had 
been  flung  down,  and,  at  once,  with  an  elo- 
quence all  her  own,  so  defended  the  "shapes" 
of  her  "fambly"  that  Polly  was  fairly  beaten 
in  the  war  of  words,  and  was  forced  to  ad- 
mit, with  many  apologies,  that  Miss  Car- 
*  oline's  back  was  as  flat  as  Miss  Emma- 
line's. 

Mammy  accepted  the  apology  with  some 
hauteur,  and  it  was  several  days  before  en- 
tire cordiality  was  reestablished ;  in  fact, 
in  all  her  after  life.  Mammy  would,  when 
in  certain  moods,  hark  back  to  "dat  time 
when  dat  long-mouthed  Polly  had  de  im- 
perdence  to  say  dat  our  folks'  backs  were  n't 
as  strai2:ht  as  hern." 

131 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


Full  of  peaceful  content  were  the  lives 
of  both  whites  and  blacks.  Merrily  the 
Christmas  went  by,  to  be  followed  by 
others  as  merry,  and  the  winters  and  sum- 
mers came  and  went,  turning  childhood 
into  maturity  and  maturity  into  old  age. 
Mammy's  glory  reached  its  zenith  when,  at 
"  Miss  Calline  s"  grand  wedding,  she  herself 
rustled  about  in  all  the  grandeur  of  a  new 
black  silk  and  Polly  was  forever  squelched. 
The  whole  world  seemed  full  of  prosperity, 
abundance,  and  careless  happiness,  when 
suddenly,  like  a  thunderbolt,  the  war  came. 

The  plantation  home  was  abandoned 
very  carelessly,  and  with  light  hearts  the 
family  drove  away,  expecting  nothing  but 
to  return  with  the  frosts  of  winter.  They 
refugeed  to  a  farmhouse  upon  the  out- 
skirts of  a  little  up-country  village. 

Sedley,  though  still  a  beardless  youth, 
shouldered  his  musket,  and  took  his  place 
in  the  ranks.  Sibyl  and  her  mother,  in  the 
Httle  rude  farmhouse,  thought  not  of  their 
lost  splendor,  but  cheerfully  looked  for  the 
good  days  sure  to  come  when,  the  war  over, 
the  dear  ones  would  come  back,  and  the 
132 


MAMMY 


old  times.  Every  Southern  ^voman  knows 
how  it  was  when  the  great  battles  were 
fought  and  a  trembling,  white-lipped  group 
of  women  and  aged  men  would  stand  hud- 
dled together  to  hear  what  the  midnight 
dispatches  might  have  in  store  for  them. 

In  the  little  upland  village  the  refugees 
were  closely  knit  together  by  hopes  and 
fears  in  common.  When  sorrow  fell  upon 
one  household  the  little  communitv  all 
mourned.  But  if  the  wires  brought  glad 
words  that  all  at  the  front  were  unharmed, 
there  would  come  a  period  of  happy  reac- 
tion ;  the  little  society  would  be  wildly  gay, 
especially  if  one  or  more  young  heroes 
from  the  front  had  come  home  with  a 
slight  wound,  —  just  enough  to  make  a 
demigod  of  him. 

Such  was  Sedley's  happy  fate  one  never- 
to-be-forgotten  summer,  when  every  girl  in 
the  village  fell  madly  in  love  with  his  blue 
eyes  and  his  gray  coat  and  his  mustache 
and  his  lovely  voice,  as  he  strummed  the 
guitar  in  the  moonlight,  —  and  most  of  all 
with  his  merry  laugh.  Did  time  permit,  I 
might  tell  of  such  odd  costumes,  such 
133 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


make-ups  of  homespun  and  lace,  fine  old 
silks  and  calicoes,  in  which  the  Dixie  girls 
danced  so  merrily. 

It  was  just  upon  the  heels  of  one  of  these 
happy  seasons  that  a  rumor  was  whispered 
that  the  army  was  about  to  fall  back  and 
that  the  offices  and  stores  would  be  removed 
in  consequence.  At  first  the  rumor  was  re- 
jected,—  no  good  Confederate  would  listen 
to  such  treason;  but  finally  the  croakers 
were  proved  to  be  right.  The  government 
stores  were  hastily  removed.  The  office- 
holders took  a  sad  farewell  of  those  whom 
they  left  behind  them,  and  the  little  town 
was  abandoned  to  its  fate,  outside  the  Con- 
federate lines. 

Sibyl  and  her  mother  were  among  the 
tearful  group  who  watched  the  little  band 
of  departing  friends,  as  it  passed  out  of  the 
town,  waved  a  last  adieu,  and  strained  their 
dimmed  eyes  for  a  last  sight  of  the  Confed- 
erate gray,  ere  they  went  sadly  back  to  their 
homes. 

When  Sibyl  and  her  mother  reached 
home,  they  found  Mammy  already  at  work. 
She  had  ripped  open  a  feather  bed,  and 
134 


MAMMY 

amid  its  downy  depths  she  was  burying 
whatever  she  could  lay  her  hands  upon. 
Clothing,  jewelry,  even  a  china  ornament 
or  two,  —  all  went  in.  It  was  a  day  or  two 
after  that  Rita  complained  of  a  great  knot 
in  her  bed,  which  had  bruised  her  back 
and  prevented  her  sleeping.  Mammy 
heard  her,  but,  waiting  until  they  were 
alone,  said  in  a  half  whisper,  "  Honey,  I 
knows  what  dat  knot  is,  't  ain't  nothin'  but 
your  brother's  cavalry  boots  that  I  hid  in 
the  bed.  I  reckon  the  feathers  has  got 
shuck  down.  Don't  say  nothin',  an'  I  '11 
turn  your  bed  over,  and  then  you  won't 
feel  'em.  An',  honey,  do  pray  be  kereful 
how  you  talks  before  Jim.  I  ain't  got  no 
'pinion  o'  Jim,  an'  it'll  never  do  in  de 
world  to  let  him  speck  where  the  things  is 
hid." 

No  one  knew  how  soon  the  Yankees 
might  come,  and  all  were  busily  engaged 
in  concealing  whatever  they  had  of  value. 
People  may  smile  now  at  some  of  the  recol- 
lections of  that  day,  but  they  were  earnest 
enough  then,  and  as  much  importance  was 
attached  to  the  concealment  of  a  ham  or  a 
135 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

pound  of  black  sugar  as  to  that  of  a  cas- 
ket of  diamonds.  Clothing  and  provisions 
were  hidden  in  various  strange  and  out- 
of-the-way  places,  and,  when  night  came, 
Mammy  and  her  mistress  were  glad  to  rest 
their  tired  bodies,  although  too  much  excited 
to  sleep.  At  last,  however,  a  deep  sleep  fell 
upon  them,  from  which  they  were  awak- 
ened by  the  distant  roar  of  cannon.  The 
village,  though  no  longer  a  depot  for  Con- 
federate stores,  was  not  to  be  given  up  with- 
out a  struggle.  It  now  became  a  sort  of 
debatable  ground,  and  cannonading,  more 
or  less  distant,  told  the  anxious  listeners  of 
almost  daily  skirmishes. 

Awakened  by  the  cannon's  roar,  Sibyl 
opened  the  window  and  listened.  A  pale 
glory  to  the  eastward,  a  low  rustle  of  leaves, 
a  drowsy  chirp  from  tiny  nests,  all  merging 
into  one  inarticulate  murmur  of  awakening 
nature,  told  that  night  was  over.  Sibyl  and 
her  mother  hastily  dressed  themselves,  called 
Rita  from  her  fearless  young  sleep,  roused 
up  the  baby,  as  they  still  called  little  Joe ; 
then  asked  themselves  why  they  did  it. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  sit  on  the 
136 


MAMMY 

porch  or  to  wander  aimlessly,  listening  with 
beating  hearts  to  the  faint  and  more  faint 
boom  of  the  artillery.  And  the  roses  glowed 
in  the  May  sunshine,  and  the  honeysuckle 
wafted  its  perfume  in  at  the  open  windows, 
and  the  bees  droned  among  the  flowers,  and 
all  was  so  peaceful,  but  for  the  incessant 
dull  roar  of  the  battle. 

The  Confederates  were  finally  driven 
back,  the  Federals  entered  the  town,  and 
then  the  bummers  came  streaming  through 
the  country,  leaving  desolation  behind  them. 
Cattle,  poultry,  everything  eatable  was 
driven  off  or  carried  away  in  the  great 
army  wagons  that  came  crashing  along,  re- 
gardless of  all  obstacles  in  their  cruel  course. 
Cut  off  from  all  news  from  the  army,  Sibyl 
and  her  mother  dragged  wearily  through 
the  long,  sad  summer,  and  the  two  children 
grew  gaunt  for  want  of  nourishing  food. 

It  was  a  morning  in  the  early  autumn 
that  Sibyl,  sitting  at  work  by  an  open  win- 
dow, became  suddenly  conscious  of  an  un- 
usual presence  near  her,  and,  looking  up, 
beheld  a  man  gazing  fixedly  upon  her.  A 
party  of  Federals  had  that  very  morning 
137 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

visited  the  house  upon  a  pretended  search 
for  concealed  weapons,  and  the  girl,  with 
nerves  still  vibrating  with  terror,  uttered  a 
little  shriek,  and,  starting  up,  was  about  to 
close  the  window,  when  the  figure  leaped 
over  the  low  sill,  a  pair  of  strong  arms 
encircled  her,  kisses  fell  upon  her  lips,  and, 
ere  the  shriek  of  terror  could  find  voice, 
she  recognized,  under  the  rough  country- 
man's hat,  the  laughing  eyes  of  her  brother 
Sedley. 

Such  meetings  can  be  better  imagined 
than  described ;  seconds  had  become  min- 
utes ere  Sibyl  or  her  mother  could  begin 
to  realize  their  joy,  which,  in  its  first  in- 
tensity, was  almost  pain.  Then  came  the 
breathless  questionings  as  to  the  well-being 
of  the  other  dear  ones,  then  the  deep  sigh 
of  thankfulness  from  the  long-burdened 
hearts. 

At  the  sound  of  a  strange  voice.  Mammy, 
peeping  in  at  the  open  door,  had  fallen 
prostrate  with  joy,  and,  while  hugging  her 
boy  to  her  faithful  bosom,  had  called  upon 
her  Maker  to  testify  that  upon  this  very 
morning  the  scissors  had  stuck  up  twice. 
138 


MAMMY 


"  An'  I  knowed  when  dey  done  dat,  dat 
somebody  was  a-comin.' " 

Then  Dinah,  the  cook,  came  in,  courtesy- 
ing  and  laughing  and  loyal  as  though  no 
emancipating  army  had  set  foot  in  Dixie. 

When  the  joyful  tidings  had  reached  the 
children,  Rita's  thin  legs  might  have  been 
seen  flying  through  the  high  grass.  The 
more  practical  Joe  toiled  behind,  bending 
under  the  burden  of  (their  treasure  trove) 
a  big  pumpkin,  a  basket  of  persimmxons, 
and  a  few  stalks  of  sorghum,  for,  like  the 
Scriptural  colts  of  the  wild  ass,  they  passed 
their  time  in  searching  after  every  green 
thing. 

In  the  magnetism  of  the  bright  pre- 
sence of  the  young  soldier,  all  the  sad  fore- 
bodings seemed  to  vanish  into  thin  air. 
While  listening  to  his  brave  words  of  hope, 
they  forgot  that  the  sunny  hours  of  this 
most  happy  day  were  hastening  by.  Al- 
ready the  shadows  lay  long  upon  the  grass, 
and  there  remained  yet  so  much  to  be 
said  and  so  little  time  wherein  to  say  it! 
By  set  of  sun  Sedley  must  be  on  his  way 
to  rejoin  his  command.  His  brief  and  dar- 
139 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


ing  visit  had  been  achieved  by  his  assum- 
ing a  disguise  before  venturing  inside  the 
enemy's  lines. 

"  How  did  you  ever  manage  it  ? "  asked 
the  mother.  "  I  tremble  when  I  think  of  it.'* 

"  Oh,"  he  answered,  "  it  was  easy  enough. 
I  came  in  with  a  fellow  who  was  driving 
cattle  into  town." 

"  Oh,  Sed  !  "  his  sister  whispered ;  '*  you 
ran  an  awful  risk;  how  will  you  manage  to 
get  back  without  being  discovered  ? " 

"  There  '11  be  no  trouble  about  that,"  he 
answered.  "  Don't  you  and  mother  go  and 
worry  yourselves  about  me.  I  '11  be  all 
right,  so  cheer  up  and  don't  look  so  dole- 
ful." 

Urged  on  by  fear,  they  now  almost  hur- 
ried him  away,  and  Mammy,  while  filling 
his  haversack  with  provisions,  entreated 
him  to  be  careful. 

"  De  ain't  no  tellin'  what  dem  Yankees 
would  do  ef  dey  once  clapt  hands  on  you." 

Sedley  might  guess  shrewdly  enough 
what  his  fate  would  be  in  such  case,  but 
he  replied,  with  his  old  boyish  laugh,  that 
it  was  his  trade  to  outrun  the  Yankees. 
140 


MAMMY 


"  Never  fear,  [Mammy, he  said  at  part- 
ing. "  Trust  me  to  beat  em  at  that  gamie.'' 

Then  the  sad  2:ood-bves  were  said,  and 
manfuhy  he  strode  down  the  httle  path, 
turning  only  once  to  wave  a  last  good-by 
to  the  sorrowful  group  on  the  broad  front 
porch,  who  watched  till  he  passed  out  of 
sight. 

The  night  was  spent  in  anxious  watch- 
ing, but  confidence  returned  with  the  morn- 
ing, and  all  again  settled  back  to  their 
employments  and  amusements.  Sybil  wan- 
dered into  the  parlor,  and,  sitting  down  to 
the  piano,  sang  in  a  lo\\\  sweet  voice  some 
of  the  pathetic  war  melodies.  The  "colts 
of  the  wild  ass  seeking  after  every  green 
thing"  had  sought  the  sorghum  patch,  and 
Mammy  had  taken  a  basket  into  the  garden 
for  a  final  gathering  of  sage  leaves.  The 
day  was  dreamy,  as  only  an  October  day  of 
the  South  can  be.  The  tempered  sunlight, 
streaming  softly  through  the  filmy  autum- 
nal mist,  threw  a  veil  of  loveliness  over  the 
homeliest  objects  ;  the  old  gray  fences,  the 
russet  fields,  the  lonely  pastures,  where 
from  beneath   the  grass  roots    the  tiny 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

crickets  chanted  their  low,  sweet  dirge  the 
long  day  through,  the  cawing  of  the  crows 
from  a  distant  treetop,  all  told  in  notes  of 
most  harmonious  pathos  that  "  the  fashion 
of  this  world  passeth  away." 

As  Mammy,  with  back  stiffened  from 
stooping,  raised  herself  for  a  moment's  rest, 
she  saw  Jim  lounge  into  the  back  yard  and 
speak  to  Dinah.  Mammy  had  but  little  use 
for  Jim  in  general,  but  now  she  felt  anxious 
to  know  what  had  been  going  on  in  the  vil- 
lage, and  for  that  reason  she  left  her  basket 
among  the  sage  and  went  near  to  hear  what 
he  was  saying.  As  she  drew  near,  Dinah 
suddenly  threw  up  her  hands,  and,  starting 
from  the  hencoop  on  which  she  had  been 
leaning,  came  towards  her,  stuttering  and 
stammering  in  a  manner  so  excited  as  to 
be  unintelligible. 

"  What 's  dat  you  say  ?  For  God's  sake, 
ooman,  say  what  yere  got  to  say,  an'  be 
done  wid  it!"  said  Mammy,  too  fright- 
ened to  be  patient.  Jim  then  drew  near 
to  her  and,  glancing  cautiously  towards 
the  not  very  distant  piazza,  upon  which 
his  mistress  happened  at  the  moment  to 
142  . 


MAAIMY 


be  standing,  he  whispered,  "  Dey 's  done 
ketched  him." 

"  K-k-ketched  who  ?"  stammered  i\Iammy 
fiercely. 

"Mas'  Sedley,  dat 's  who,"  Jim  answered 
doggedly. 

"  How  you  know?  I  don't  b'lieve  a  word 
on  it." 

"Anyhow,  dey 's  done  done  it." 

"  Ho'  come  you  know  so  much  'bout  it " 

"  'Cause  I  seen  'em  when  dey  done  it." 

"  Y»3-you  have  de  face  to  stan'  da  an' 
tell  me  dat  you  seen  'em  a-troublin'  dat 
chile  an'  you  not  lif  a  han'  to  help  him  ?  " 

"How  I  gwine  help  him?  G"  long,  you 
don't  know  what  you  talkin'  'bout." 

"  Whar'bouts  did  dey  come  across  him?" 
RIammy  inquired. 

"  Right  down  yonder  at  de  mill,"  Jim  an- 
swered, nodding  his  head  in  the  direction. 

"Good  Lord,"  exclaimed  Mammy,  "dey 
must  'a'  ketched  him  directly  after  he  went 
away ! " 

This  conversation  was  carried  on  in  such 
low  murmurings  that  even  a  listener  at  a 
short  distance  could  not  have  distinguished 
143 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

what  was  said ;  the  three  were  very  intent, 
but  did  not  omit  occasional  cautious  glances 
in  the  direction  of  the  house. 

"  Dat 's  so,"  Jim  replied  ;  "  an'  den  dey 
shet  him  up  in  de  mill  house,  and  den  I 
never  seed  no  mo',  'cause  I  was  skeered  an' 
runned  away." 

Then,  after  an  uneasy  pause,  he  added, 
"  I  come  'long  dat-a-way  soon  dis  mornin','* 
and  here  he  murmured  so  low  into  Mam- 
my's ear  that  Dinah,  though  she  stretched 
her  neck,  could  not  catch  the  word,  which 
turned  Mammy's  brown  face  to  ashen  gray. 
She  stood  for  a  minute  like  one  turned  to 
stone,  then  staggered  to  her  own  doorstep. 
Sitting  down,  she  buried  her  head  in  her 
apron,  and  so  sat  motionless  for  half  an 
hour,  while  Jim  and  Dinah  continued  their 
guarded  murmurings  by  the  hencoop.  At 
the  end  of  half  an  hour  she  rose,  took  a 
bunch  of  keys  from  her  pocket,  went  into 
her  house  and,  closing  the  door  behind  her, 
unlocked  her  chest.  Drawing  from  it  a 
little  workbox,  which  had,  in  years  gone  by, 
been  one  of  Caroline's  cherished  Christ- 
mas gifts,  she  opened  it.  From  beneath  her 
144 


MAMMY 


Sunday  pocket  handkerchief,  and  a  few 
other  articles  of  special  value,  she  produced 
another  and  smaller  box  which  she  opened, 
and,  taking  from  it  a  gold  coin,  looked  at  it 
tenderly. 

"Po'  little  fellow!  God  bless  him!  he 
give  me  this  that  fus'  time  he  come  home 
from  school.  I  never  'spected  to  part  with 
it,  but  ef  it's  de  Lord's  will,  it  may  help  him 
now." 

With  these  thoughts,  Mammy  quickly 
replaced  the  things  in  her  chest,  put  the 
coin  into  her  pocket,  and,  taking  up  the 
man's  hat,  which  upon  week  days  she  al- 
ways wore,  she  strode  off  towards  the  mill. 

As  she  passed  by  the  piazza,  she  paused 
one  moment  irresolute,  but  murmuring  to 
herself,  "  'T  ain't  no  use  upsettin'  Mistis, 
po'  cretur,  and  I  can  do  it  better  by  myself 
anyhow,"  she  walked  briskly  forward,  re- 
volving in  her  mind  her  plan. 

The  mill  house  consisted  of  two  rooms, 
and  in  the  one  in  which  Jiin  had  reported 
Sedley  to  be  confined  there  was  a  small  trap- 
door. It  had  been  used  for  regulating  the 
working  of  the  machinery,  and  led  from  be- 
145 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

neath  the  house  directly  to  the  creek,  which 
ran  close  to  the  walls  of  the  house.  This  trap 
Mammy  had  once  happened  to  see  opened, 
and  in  that  way  knew  of  its  existence,  oth- 
erwise she  would  never  have  suspected  it, 
as,  from  its  infrequent  use,  it  was  .  usually 
covered  with  dust  and  dirt  and  could  not 
be  distinguished  from  the  rest  of  the  floor. 
Her  plan  was  to  endeavor  to  get  speech 
with  Sedley,  tell  him  of  the  trap-door,  and 
leave  the  rest  to  him.  Her  great  fear  had 
been  that  she  might  be  refused  admit- 
tance to  him,  and  hence  it  was  that  she 
had  thought  of  her  gold  piece,  as  she  hoped 
by  its  potent  influence  to  be  given  a  few 
minutes  alone  with  the  prisoner. 

There  would  be  no  great  difficulty  for 
Sedley  to  lift  the  trap  without  noise  and, 
when  it  was  lifted,  to  swing  himself  through 
to  the  ground,  to  creep  until  he  came  to  the 
thick  tangle  upon  the  creek  banks,  then  to 
swim  across  and  escape  into  the  shelter  of 
the  woods  beyond.  That  would  be  sim- 
ple enough,  and  Mammy,  full  of  hopeful 
thoughts,  was  walking  briskly  forward, 
when  suddenly  a  turn  in  the  path  brought 
146 


MAMAIY 

into  view  a  small  body  of  Federals,  all 
mounted,  and  evidently  coming  from  the 
direction  of  the  mill.  They  seemed  in  haste, 
and  she  could  hear  the  rattle  of  their  sabres 
as  they  cantered  by. 

Standing  amid  the  broom-sedge,  Mammy 
watched  them,  casting  eager,  anxious  looks 
upon  them,  fearing,  dreading  to  see  her  boy 
in  their  midst,  a  poor,  defenseless  captive. 
Finally,  as  the  last  horseman  disappeared, 
she  heaved  a  sigh  of  infinite  relief.  "  Bless 
de  good  Lord,  dey  ain't  took  de  po'  chile 
wid  'em,"  and  so  went  on  her  way. 

At  length  the  gray  gables  of  the  little 
mill  house  came  into  view,  and  Mammy, 
feeling  in  her  pocket  to  assure  herself  that 
the  gold  piece  was  safe  at  hand,  went  boldly 
forward,  telling  herself  that,  if  she  spoke 
politely,  the  Yankee  guard  would  not  shoot 
her.  So  she  went  on  until  the  little  mill 
came  into  full  view,  but  with  no  guard  or 
any  other  object  to  inspire  fear.  All  seemed 
quiet,  and  the  place  quite  deserted.  There 
were  footprints  about  the  door,  and  broken 
bushes  showed  the  trampling  of  both  men 
and  horses,  but  now  all  was  very  quiet. 
H7 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


The  old  mill  house  looked  very  peaceful, 
with  the  yellow  autumnal  sun  shining 
upon  its  moss-grown  roof,  with  no  sound 
to  break  the  deep  silence,  save  the  low, 
continuous  warbling  of  a  solitary  mocking- 
bird which,  perched  upon  an  overhanging 
bough,  seemed  to  review  its  past  joys  in 
low,  sweet  notes  of  retrospection. 

Upon  seeing  that  the  place  was  quite 
deserted.  Mammy  paused,  and,  after  look- 
ing around  to  satisfy  herself  that  this  was 
really  the  case,  ascended  the  steps  and,  lift- 
ing the  latch  of  the  door,  looked  into  the 
outer  room. 

"  Thank  God  !  "  she  murmured,  upon 
finding  it  empty.  "  Thank  God  !  dey 's  all 
took  deyselves  off  to  town  an'  lef  him  here, 
locked  up  by  hisself.  It  raly  is  'stonishin' 
to  think  how  foolish  dem  creturs  is;  dey 
mout  ha'  knowed  as  someon'  would  ha' 
come  an'  let  him  loose." 

While  thus  thinking,  she  had  crossed 
the  room,  and  was  now  endeavoring  to 
open  the  door,  which  gave  admittance 
to  the  inner  and  larger  apartment.  Find- 
ing, as  she  had  anticipated,  that  this  door 
148 


MAMMY 


was  fastened,  she  first  called  to  the  pris- 
oner within,  and,  when  no  answer  was  re- 
turned, she  shook  the  door  until  at  length 
the  crazy  old  lock  gave  way  and  the  door 
creaked  slowly  back  upon  its  rusty  hinges. 

"  Honey,  whar'bouts  is  you  ?  "  Mammy 
questioned,  as,  pausing  upon  the  thresh- 
old, she  peered  into  the  obscurity  be- 
yond. The  windowless  room  was  dark,  and 
Mammy,  after  again  calling,  groped  her 
way  in,  straining  her  eyes  into  the  gloom, 
but  unable  to  discern  any  object.  Then, 
suddenly,  the  deep  silence  and  the  gloom 
smote  upon  her  senses,  and  a  great  horror 
came  over  her.  She  turned  to  rush  from 
the  room,  when  her  eyes,  grown  more  ac- 
customed to  the  darkness,  fell  upon  an 
object  which  froze  the  lifeblcod  in  her 
veins.  It  lay  almost  at  her  feet.  She 
stooped  and  bent  over  it,  with  thick,  la- 
boring breath.  Very  still  it  lay,  with  set 
white  face  and  wide-open,  unseeing  eyes. 


WAR  REMINISCENCES 


REMEMBER  when  Wheel- 
er's cavalry  passed  through 
town  that  the  men,  when 
halted,  just  dropped  in  the 
streets  and  slept,  so  that  passers-by  were 
forced  to  step  over  them,  but  in  spite  of 
starvation  and  weariness  the  old  indomita- 
ble spirit  would  assert  itself.  One  of  the 
poor  fellows,  while  the  column  was  passing 
by  Christ  Church,  looked  up  at  the  weather- 
cock and  remarked  to  a  comrade  that  it  was 
the  first  and  only  instance  of  Wheeler's  boys 
seeing  a  chicken  which  they  could  not  get  at. 

We  were  singularly  fortunate  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Raleigh  in  having  no  lack 
of  wholesome  food,  and  in  being  able  to 
send  boxes  of  provisions  to  the  army  around  ~ 
Petersburg.  We,  in  particular,  were  plenti- 
fully supplied  from  the  plantation,  a  four- 
horse  wagon  being  constantly  engaged  in 
hauling  supplies. 

150 


WAR  REMINISCENXES 


One  of  the  greatest  taxes  upon  our  re- 
sources, and  the  event  that  brought  the  war 
very  closely  home  to  us,  was  the  advent  of 
the  cavalcade  and  ambulances  referred  to  in 
my  notes  concerning  My  Own  Early  Home. 

Most  of  the  horsemen  who  had  come 
with  the  ambulances  returned  to  the  front 
the  next  morning,  leaving  behind  them  six 
or  more  sick  and  wounded,  with  their  sur- 
geon and  friends  to  look  after  them.  For- 
tunately, the  ofHce  in  the  yard  (a  house 
with  tv^'o  comfortable  rooms)  was  easily 
made  ready  and  the  wounded  men  were  in- 
stalled in  the  quarters  which  they  kept  for 
a  month.  The  wound  which  afterwards  de- 
prived one  of  the  wounded,  a  young  man 
by  the  name  of  Nat  Butler,  of  his  arm,  was 
by  far  the  most  serious.  The  attempt  to 
save  the  arm  came  very  near  costing  him 
his  life.  Instead  of  healing,  the  wound  con- 
stantly sloughed,  with  great  loss  of  blood. 
As  the  wound  was  between  the  elbow  and 
the  shoulder,  the  danger  attending  amputa- 
tion increased  with  each  sloughing,  but  the 
poor  boy  was  deaf  to  all  that  his  doctor 
could  urge,  positively  refusing  to  have  the 
151 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


arm  amputated,  and  he  grew  weaker  and 
weaker  with  every  hemorrhage.  Meantime 
several  of  the  sick  and  wounded  were  so 
far  cured  as  to  be  able  to  return  to  duty. 
Captain  Butler  (an  older  brother  of  Nat 
Butler),  Dr.  Thompson,  Mr.  Taylor,  and 
several  others  whose  names  I  have  forgot- 
ten, and  the  bugler,  named  Glanton,  still 
remained.  One  morning,  while  I  was  in  the 
mealroom  getting  out  dinner,  I  heard  Cap- 
tain Butler's  voice  calling  loudly  that  young 
Butler  was  bleeding  to  death.  I  just  took 
time  to  call  out  to  my  daughters,  Annie  and 
Kate,  who  were  just  starting  to  town,  to  drive 
as  quickly  as  they  could  to  Dr.  Johnson's  and 
to  ask  him  to  come.  Then  I  ran  down  to 
the  office,  where  I  found  the  poor  old  cap- 
tain frantic  with  terror  and  quite  unable  to 
do  anything  for  the  patient,  who  lay  sense- 
less and  bleeding  upon  the  bed.  I  can  never 
forget  his  ghastly  appearance ;  I  never  saw 
so  bloodless  a  face.  The  mouth,  partly  open, 
showed  a  tongue  bluish  like  new  flannel. 
I  went  to  the  bedside  and  pressed  the  arm 
above  the  wound,  as  hard  as  I  could,  and  I 
held  it  so  until  the  arrival  of  Dr.  Johnson.  I 


WAR  REMINISCENCES 

had  thus  succeeded  in  partially  arresting  the 
hemorrhage,  and  possibly  may  have  saved 
young  Butlers  life.  I  started  to  leave  as 
soon  as  the  doctor  came,  and  when  I  arose 
from  my  knees,  I  realized  .for  the  first  time 
that  I  was  covered  with  blood.  The  ampu- 
tation could  no  longer  be  deferred,  and  the 
operation  took  place  as  soon  as  the  patient's 
strength  permitted,  which  was,  I  think,  two 
days  after  the  hemorrhage.  There  was  then 
barely  a  chance  that  he  could  survive  in  his 
weak  condition.  I  shall  never  forget  how 
the  girls  and  I  sat  upon  the  front  steps  and 
watched  the  silent  men  standing  before  the 
ofKce,  —  it  seemed  as  though  the  suspense 
would  never  end.  After  the  amputation, 
Butler  lay  for  twenty-four  hours  like  one 
dead.  Finally,  when  he  did  rally  sufficiently 
to  be  given  something,  I  sent  our  excellent 
nurse,  Caroline,  to  take  care  of  him,  for  I 
could  not  trust  him  to  the  ignorant  though 
kindly  meant  attentions  of  his  friends.  At 
this  time  General  Galbraith  Butler  was  our 
guest,  and,  as  the  Norrises  had  now  left 
for  Richmond,  I  gave  him  a  room  in  the 
house.  He  was  quite  ill  there  for  several 
153 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


days,  during  which  time  the  house  was 
thronged  with  messengers  from  the  front. 
It  gives  me  pleasure  to  say  that  they  con- 
ducted themselves  like  polished  gentlemen, 
who  appreciated  the  comforts  which  they 
received. 

Under  Caroline's  devoted  nursing  Nat 
Butler  slowly  returned  to  life  and  to  a  de- 
gree of  strength.  When  it  became  evident 
that  Raleigh  would  soon  be  in  possession 
of  the  enemy,  Nat  Butler  declared  that  he 
preferred  the  risk  of  dying  by  exposure  to 
that  of  being  captured.  It  was  with  the 
saddest  forebodings  that  we  prepared  for 
his  departure.  The  ambulance  was  made 
comfortable  with  pillows,  blankets,  etc.,  and 
nothing  was  omitted  that  could  contribute 
to  the  well-being  of  the  poor  sufferer.  It 
was  a  painful  parting,  as  we  all  knew  that 
we  were  on  the  eve  of  horrors  that  we  dared 
not  contemplate.  The  moon  shone  upon 
the  sorrowful  little  cortege,  as  it  passed 
beneath  the  trees,  and  we  were  too  sad  for 
tears,  as  we  watched  it  go  slowly  out  of 
sight.  Nat  Butler  lived,  and  visited  us  a 
year  later,  but  his  life  was  a  brief  one. 
154 


WAR  REMINISCENXES 


We  were  up  late  that  night,  bidding  adieu 
to  many  friends.  Indeed,  the  past  few  days 
had  been  days  of  varied  and  intense  excite- 
ment. People  who  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances would  have  scarcely  recognized  each 
other  as  acquaintances  now  met  and  parted 
as  old  and  dear  friends.  Mounted  officers 
would  come  cantering  up  just  for  a  handshake 
and  a  God-keep-you.  We  were  admonished 
to  take  off  rings  or  any  little  bits  of  jewelry 
which  we  might  wear.  A  gentleman  sitting 
by  me  had  concealed  my  watch  in  my  ball 
of  knitting  cotton.  People  everywhere  were 
wildly  seeking  places  wherein  to  conceal 
their  valuables.  We  had  no  reason  to  imag- 
ine that  our  house  was  safer  than  others,  but 
we  could  not  refuse  to  receive  the  trunks 
and  boxes  brought  to  us  in  desperation,  by 
refugees  chiefly,  who  were  leaving  town  in 
a  panic,  and  going  they  knew  not  whither. 
All  that  we  could  promise  was  that  they 
should  be  as  well  cared  for  as  were  our  own  ; 
and  so  the  garret  was  packed  with  all  sorts 
of  trunks  and  boxes,  many  of  which  v;ere 
not  claimed  until  the  next  autumn. 

I  cannot  pretend  to  give  you  an  idea  of 
155 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

the  excitement  and  turmoil  of  that  last 
week  of  the  Confederacy.  Every  minute  of 
your  grandfather's  time  was  taken  up  with 
his  duties  as  a  state  officer,  until  he,  in 
company  with  Governor  Graham  and  Dr. 
Warren,  were  despatched  by  Governor 
Vance  to  meet  Sherman  with  a  flag  of 
truce  and  to  surrender  the  town.  He  was 
absent  upon  this  mission  upon  a  night  that  I 
happened  to  go  into  the  dining-room  and 
found  several  rough-looking  men,  whom  I 
took  to  be  Confederates,  seated  at  supper. 
Robert  was  waiting  upon  them,  and  Ade- 
laide talking,  while  one  of  my  little  children 
was  seated  cosily  upon  the  knee  of  a  partic- 
ularly dirty-looking  man.  This  did  not 
please  me,  for  there  was  a  freedom  of  manner 
about  them  which  I  had  never  seen  in  one  of 
our  men  before.  Still,  I  had  no  suspicion  that 
they  were  not  what  they  seemed,  and,  be- 
ing called  off,  I  left  them,  although  a  cer- 
tain uncomfortable  feeling  caused  me  to  do 
so  unwillingly.  Just  as  I  left,  a  clatter  of 
horses'  feet  was  heard  outside,  and  Ade- 
laide (always  loquacious),  exclaimed,  "  Here 
comes  the  General  and  his  staff ! "  The 
156 


WAR  REMINISCENCES 


words  were  scarcely  uttered  before  the 
men  jumped  from  their  seats  and  dashed 
from  the  room.  We  were  afterwards  con- 
vinced that  they  were  some  of  the  scum  of 
Sherman  s  army,  and  while  we  (myself  and 
daughters)  were  sitting  quite  unsuspect- 
ingly, they  were  lurking  near  us. 

I  omitted  to  mention  that,  at  our  urgent 
invitation,  our  dear  friends  the  Burgwyns 
had  come  to  us,  and,  in  the  midst  of  other 
distractions,  I  was  occupied  in  disposing 
of  their  numerous  boxes,  barrels,  and  pic- 
tures. There  was  a  universal  feeling  that 
there  would  be  a  degree  of  safety  in  num- 
bers, and  we  could  not  possibly  have  en- 
joyed more  congenial  companionship  than 
that  of  our  cousins,  the  Burgwyns.  Upon 
that  day  we  prepared  twenty  lunches,  which 
were  most  thankfully  received.  I  recollect 
that  towards  evening  some  hot  tea  was 
made  for  our  old  friend,  Mr.  John  Robin- 
son. He  had  been  at  work  all  day,  shipping 
freight  and  provisions,  and  transferring  en- 
gines to  Greensboro,  to  which  place  he  v/as 
now  going.  He  had  had  nothing  to  eat,  and 
was,  as  you  may  imagine,  very  tired,  and  so 
157 


4 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


hungry  that  his  lunch  of  cold  ham,  bread, 
and  butter,  with  many  cups  of  tea,  was  so 
much  enjoyed  that  in  after  life  he  often 
spoke  of  it  with  real  gratitude.  When  he 
said  good-by,  he  gave  into  my  keeping  a  lit- 
tle box  of  trinkets,  requesting  me  to  keep 
them  for  him,  as  he  had  no  idea  what  his 
destination  might  be.  I,  of  course,  said  that 
I  would  try  to  keep  them  safely ;  and  I  did, 
returning  them  just  as  I  had  received  them, 
some  months  later. 

Upon  that  day,  our  dinner  was  but  a 
meagre  one,  consisting  chiefly  of  soup,  and, 
as  the  very  last  of  the  silver  had  been  hid- 
den out  of  sight,  we  were  compelled  to  take 
it  from  teacups.  Upon  that  night,  after  the 
stir  and  bustle  of  the  day  had  subsided, 
after  the  last  good-by  had  been  uttered,  and 
the  last  horseman  had  galloped  away,  a  most 
intense  stillness  followed,  which,  if  possible, 
increased  our  melancholy,  and  magnified 
our  fearful  apprehensions  of  what  was  to 
come. 

On  the  following  morning,  I  saw  three 
odd,  rough -looking  men  come  galloping 
up  from  the  barn.    They  were  mounted 
158 


WAR  REMINISCENCES 

upon  mules,  were  seated  far  forward  upon 
the  withers,  and  had  their  knees  drawn  up 
after  a  most  uno-ainlv  fashion.  I  saw  at  a 
glance  that  they  were  not  our  countrymen. 
They  rode  furiously  into  the  yard,  where 
they  halted  abruptly.  The  servants  stood 
gaping  at  them  in  stupid  bewilderment.  I 
went  forward  and  asked  them  the  meaning 
of  this  intrusion.  Their  reply  was  an  inso- 
lent demand  for  my  keys.  Then  I  knew 
that  they  were  bummers.  During  the 
whole  of  this  period  your  grandfather  had 
had  more  than  his  hands  full  at  his  office, 
taking  care  of  and  sending  off  government 
stores,  and  doing  a  thousand  other  things, 
so  that  all  the  domestic  offices  rested  with 
me.  I  told  the  bummers,  with  a  great  show 
of  courage,  that  I  had  no  idea  of  giving  them 
my  keys,  and  as  I  walked  off,  feeling  quite 
triumphant,  I  had  the  mortification  of  see- 
ing them  dismount  and  swagger  to  the 
doors  of  the  mealroom,  smokehouse,  and 
storeroom,  slip  their  miserable,  dastardly 
swords  into  the  locks,  and  open  the  doors, 
with  the  most  perfect  ease.  Conscious  now 
of  my  own  weakness,  I  would  not  con^e- 
159 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 


scend  to  parley  with  them,  and  watched 
them  at  their  insolent  and  thievish  game, 
'until  their  mules  were  almost  hidden  be- 
neath the  load  of  hams,  sausages,  and  other 
plunder.  Then  they  remounted,  and  dashed 
off  at  the  same  furious  pace  as  they  had  come. 
In  a  little  time  after  others  came  and  played 
the  same  game,  only  adding  to  their  abomi- 
nable thievishness  by  driving  off  our  mules 
and  all  our  cattle.  Our  horses,  I  am  glad 
to  say,  had  been  sent  away. 

It  was  towards  noon  upon  that  fatal  day 
that  we  espied  a  long  blue  line  crawling 
serpent-like  around  a  distant  hill.  Silently 
we  watched,  as  it  uncoiled  itself,  ever  draw- 
ing nearer  and  still  nearer,  until  the  one 
great  reptile  developed  into  many  reptiles 
and  took  the  form  of  men.  Men  in  blue 
tramping  everywhere,  horsemen  careering 
about  us  with  no  apparent  object,  wagons 
crashing  through  fences  as  though  they 
had  been  made  of  paper.  The  negroes 
stood  like  dumb  things,  in  stupid  dismay. 
It  was  at  a  later  period  that  their  time  of 
joy  came  (in  many  instances  it  never  came); 
then  the  only  feeling  was  one  of  awe. 
1 60 


WAR  REiMINISCENCES 


In  an  incredibly  short  time  tents  were 
pitched,  the  flag  run  up,  and  the  Yankees 
were  here.  The  crowd  grew  more  dense. 
A  large  column  was  passing  through  the 
grove  at  almost  a  run,  when,  to  my  horror, 
I  saw  Adelaide  and  Lizzie,  each  with  one 
of  my  little  girls  in  her  arms,  rushing  along 
in  their  midst  in  a  state  of  such  wild  excite- 
ment that  they  had  almost  lost  their  reason. 
Almost  in  despair,  I  rushed  after  them,  some- 
times seeing  them,  only  to  lose  them  again 
in  the  moving  mass.  As  I  passed  a  soldier 
I  signed  to  him  for  help ;  I  do  not  think  I 
could  have  spoken.  He  saw  the  danger  that 
threatened  my  children,  and,  overtaking  the 
two  nurses,  took  the  children  and  brought 
them  to  me.  The  women  had  meant  no 
harm,  and  did  not  realize  the  risk. 

As  I  before  remarked,  every  one  during 
this  period  of  panic  entertained  an  idea 
that  he  must  commit  his  valuables  to  the 
keeping  of  some  one  else;  for  instance, 
my  sister  gave  her  set  of  pearls  to  her  maid 
Sally  for  safe  keeping,  and  Sally,  in  her  turn, 
brought  them  to  Caroline  (her  mother). 
CaroHne,  not  knowing  a  safe  place  of  con- 
i6i 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

cealment,  lifted  a  stone  from  her  hearth, 
placed  the  casket  in  the  cavity,  and  replaced 
the  stone ;  this,  however,  caused  the  stone 
to  fit  loosely  in  the  hole  from  which  it  had 
been  displaced,  and  Caroline,  in  her  fear 
lest  this  should  lead  to  the  discovery  of  the 
pearls,  sat  all  night  with  her  feet  resting 
upon  it.  She  came  to  me  in  the  morning, 
looking  perfectly  haggard,  and  told  me  that 
she  had  never  before  passed  through  such 
a  night  of  horror,  for  her  house  had  been 
crowded  with  Federals,  prying  into  every 
corner  and  taking  whatever  they  fancied. 
With  my  sister's  casket,  she  handed  me  a 
red  cotton  handkerchief  tied  up  and  full  of 
silver  coins,  belonging  to  herself  and  her 
husband.  She  had  no  place  in  which  to 
keep  it,  and  asked  me  to  take  care  of  it.  I, 
of  course,  took  charge  of  it  and  kept  it  for 
her  until  the  last  bluecoat  had  left  the 
place,  which  was  not  until  August;  for, 
after  the  departure  of  the  army,  a  regiment 
was  left  in  our  grove. 

One  day  General  Logan  came  to  the 
door  and  said  that  he  had  reason  to  believe 
that  a  Confederate  officer  was  concealed  in 
162 


WAR  REMINISCENCES 


the  house,  and,  if  I  kept  his  presence  a 
secret,  he  threatened  me  with  the  conse- 
quences. The  Federals,  while  searching  for 
buried  treasure,  had  discovered  the  ampu- 
tated arm  of  poor  young  Butler,  and  had 
jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  con- 
cealed in  the  house.  At  all  events,  it  served 
as  a  plea  for  them  to  claim  that  he  was 
there.  When  I  assured  him  that  this  rumor 
was  quite  false,  his  manner  was  so  utterly 
incredulous  that  I  requested  him  to  satisfy 
himself  of  the  truth  of  my  assertion  by  miak- 
ing  a  search  of  the  entire  house  and  out- 
buildings. I  entreated  him  to  do  this,  for 
his  threats  had  so  alarmed  me  that  I  felt 
that  in  that  alone  lay  our  preservation.  His 
reply,  with  an  insolent,  jeering  laugh,  was: 
"  I  will  not  take  that  trouble,  for  my  boys 
will  settle  that  question." 

The  safeguards  stationed  both  at  the 
back  and  front  protected  the  house.  For, 
whatever  might  have  been  their  feelings, 
they  dared  not  relax  in  their  vigilance. 
The  discipline  in  that  army  was  perfect. 

Not  long:  after  the  above-mentioned  in- 
terview  with  Logan,  we  were  told  (by  a 
163 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

servant,  I  think),  that  the  whole  division 
was  going  to  leave  that  night.  This  was 
true.  It  was  before  the  articles  of  the  sur- 
render had  been  signed,  and  Logan  was  in 
pursuit  of  General  Johnston.  It  was  a  night 
of  such  commotion  that  not  one  of  the  fam- 
ily retired  to  rest.  It  was  discovered,  w^hen 
too  late  for  redress,  that  Logan  had  with- 
drawn our  safeguards,  taken  every  com- 
manding officer  with  him,  and  had  left  us 
to  the  mercy  of  his  wagon  train  of  hum- 
mers and  of  negroes.  That  night  of  terror 
terminated  in  a  violent  storm,  in  the  midst 
of  which  your  grandfather  set  out  for  the 
headquarters  in  town  for  the  purpose  of  de- 
manding a  safeguard.  With  daylight  came 
a  greater  feeling  of  safety,  so  we  separated, 
the  girls  going  to  their  rooms,  and  I  to  mine, 
in  order  to  refresh  ourselves  and  make  a 
fresh  toilet.  While  so  engaged,  I  kept  hear- 
ing the  bells  ringing  and  tinkling  inces- 
santly, and,  while  I  was  hurrying  to  put  on 
my  dress  in  order  to  inquire  the  meaning  of 
this,  Caroline  and  Adelaide  rushed  in,  ex- 
claiming that  men  were  climbing  the  walls 
of  the  house,  and  the  tinkling  of  the  bells 
164 


WAR  REMINISCENCES 

was  caused  by  their  twisting  them  off  the 
wires.  These  women,  whose  natural  color 
was  bright  mulatto,  now  looked  ashy.  I  do 
not  think  that  I  spoke  a  word,  but  just  flew 
into  the  nursery,  took  the  children,  and  ran 
up  the  stairs.  As  I  passed  by  the  sitting- 
room,  I  met  Kate,  all  disheveled,  running 
out  and  saying  that  men  were  climbing 
into  her  window.  I  just  took  time  to  lock 
the  door  between  her  room  and  the  sitting- 
room,  and  then  we  all  ran  upstairs,  where  the 
Burgwyns  and  my  other  girls  were  quietly 
dressing,  in  entire  ignorance  of  what  was 
taking  place.  It  seems  strange  that  I  should 
recollect  every  trifle  so  vividly ;  I  remember, 
even  now,  that,  as  I  ran  up  the  stair,  my 
throat  and  mouth  became  so  dry  that  I 
could  not  speak.  From  the  window  at  the 
head  of  the  stair  nothing  was  visible  but  a 
sea  of  upturned  faces ;  not  just  by  the  house, 
but  away  down  the  slope,  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  were  men's  upturned  faces. 
I  can  never  forget  the  look  upon  I\Irs. 
Burgwyn's  face  as  she  whispered,  "  We 
can  throw  ourselves  from  the  window." 
My  poor,  craven  heart  might  have  failed 
165 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

me,  but  I  am  convinced  that  she  could  have 
done  it.  While  we  thus  stood,  a  poor,  cow- 
ering, terror-stricken  group,  steps  were 
heard  approaching,  and  a  tall  figure  slowly 
ascended  the  stairs,  and  a  grim,  saturnine- 
faced  man  stood  before  us,  and  said,  "  I 
don't  know  that  I  can  save  you,  but  for  the 
sake  of  my  mother  and  sisters  I  will  do  all 
that  I  can  do."  I  do  not  remember  whether 
any  one  made  a  reply  or  not,  I  only  recol- 
lect that  he  went  as  deliberately  as  he  had 
come.  When  your  grandfather  returned, 
having  with  difficulty  succeeded  in  procur- 
ing the  permit  for  a  safeguard,  the  mob 
had  begun  to  disperse.  Our  deliverer  was 
a  man  named  Fort.  He  was  division  quar- 
termaster, and  had  been  left  in  charge  of 
the  wagon  trains.  He  was  from  one  of  the 
Western  States,  Iowa,  I  believe.  He  was 
a  good  man,  and  was  God's  instrument  to 
save  us  from  destruction.  He  remained 
near  the  house  all  through  the  day,  and  at 
first  said  that  he  would  sleep  that  night  in- 
side the  dwelling,  but  afterwards  told  your 
grandfather  that,  upon  further  considera- 
tion, he  thought  it  best  that  he  should  stay 
i66 


WAR  REiVlINISCENCES 


outside,  so  his  tent  was  pitched  close  to  the 
house,  and  there  he  remained  until  his  com- 
mand left.  He  was  forbidding  in  manner, 
and  would  accept  no  thanks.  I  think  that 
he  hated  us  as  Southerners,  but  acted  from 
humanity. 

Mr.  Burgwyn  was  suffering  from  an  apo- 
plectic stroke,  and  was  lying  insensible.  My 
son  had  not  returned  from  Appomattox. 
Had  any  man  been  with  us,  he  would  have 
been  utterly  helpless,  and  would  probably 
have  been  murdered. 

One  day,  either  immediately  preceding 
or  following  the  incident  just  related,  our 
ever-faithful  man,  Frank,  stealthily  entered 
the  house.  He  was  evidently  afraid  of  being 
observed,  for  he  slipped  in,  and,  closing  the 
door  after  him,  asked  to  speak  a  word  to 
his  master.  When  your  grandfather  came, 
Frank  almost  whispered  his  communica- 
tion, as  though  afraid  of  being  overheard. 
"  Master,"  he  said,  "  I  come  to  ask  you, 
please,  sir,  don't  go  out  of  the  house  to- 
day ;  "  he  would  not  say  why  he  gave  this 
warning,  and  it  was  not  until  afterwards 
that  we  found  that  the  Federals  had  in- 
167 


PLANTATION  SKETCHES 

tended  to  hang  your  grandfather  up  until 
he  told  them  where  our  silver  was  hidden. 
I  rejoice  to  say  that  they  did  not  get  one 
piece  of  it,  although  a  part  of  it  was  buried 
in  the  branch  that  runs  at  the  foot  of  the 
grove,  and,  in  digging  out.  a  place  for  water- 
ing their  horses,  they  had  actually  thrown 
the  sand  upon  the  box,  thus  burying  it 
deeper. 

I  could  relate  many  other  incidents  of 
this  period,  some  of  them  rather  amusing  ; 
but  it  is  time  to  bring  my  reminiscences  to 
a  close.  But  before  doing  so,  I  must  say  a 
word  about  our  last  safeguard,  Monhagan. 
He  was  Irish,  and  possessed  all  of  the  best 
attributes  of  the  Irish  character.  After  the 
departure  of  Logan's  division,  with  the  rest 
of  Sherman's  army,  this  man  was  deputed 
to  guard  the  place,  as  a  regiment  was  still 
quartered  in  the  grove.  He  stayed  until 
August,  and,  besides  faithfully  discharging 
his  duties,  he  exerted  himself  in  other  and 
various  ways  to  ameliorate  the  inconve- 
niences to  which  we  were  subjected.  Our 
servants,  lounging  in  idleness,  contented 
themselves  with  professions  as  idle.  Frank, 
i68 


WAR  REMINISCENCES 

acting  upon  his  master's  advice,  had  taken 
his  family  to  the  plantation.  Adelaide  was 
ill  the  greater  part  of  the  summer  with 
brain  fever.  Monhagan  worked  the  gar- 
den, gathered  fruit  and  vegetables,  and  per- 
formed many  other  services.  I  felt  a  little 
amused  when  he  one  day  brought  me  all 
his  money  and  asked  me  to  take  care  of  it 
for  him.  At  first  I  positively  refused  to 
take  upon  myself  this  responsibility,  but 
yielded  at  last,  and  made  him  count  it,  and 
kept  it  as  long  as  he  remained.  Every  Sat- 
urday afternoon  he  would  come  and  ask 
me  to  let  him  have  one  dollar  and  allow 
him  to  go  to  town  for  a  little  while.  He 
left  with  the  regiment  in  August,  and  he 
wrote  once  to  your  uncle  Tom  from  New 
York,  but  omitted  to  give  his  address, 
which  we  regretted,  as  we  would  have  liked 
to  have  him  as  a  gardener. 


This  preservation  copy 
was  printed  and  bound  at 
Bridgeport  National  Bindery,  Inc., 
in  compliance  with  U.S.  copyright  law. 
The  paper  used  meets  the  requirements 
of  ArSSl/NISOZ39.48-1992 
(Permanence  of  Paper). 

C  I.  R 


2000 


